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Title: Memorials of old Nottinghamshire

Editor: Everard L. Guilford

P. H. Ditchfield

Release date: February 5, 2026 [eBook #77866]

Language: English

Original publication: London: George Allen & Company, 1912

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/77866

Credits: Tim Lindell, Karin Spence and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries)

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MEMORIALS OF OLD NOTTINGHAMSHIRE ***

Memorials of the Counties of England

General Editor:

Rev. P. H. Ditchfield , M.A., F.S.A., F.R.S.L., F.R.Hist.S.

Memorials of
Old Nottinghamshire

Nottingham. The Old Trent Bridge.

# MEMORIALS OF OLD
NOTTINGHAMSHIRE

EDITED BY

EVERARD L. GUILFORD, M.A.

Author of

“Little Guide to Nottinghamshire”

ILLUSTRATED WITH MANY ILLUSTRATIONS

LONDON
GEORGE ALLEN & COMPANY, LTD.
44 & 45 RATHBONE PLACE, W.
1912

[All Rights Reserved]

Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
At the Ballantyne Press, Edinburgh

TO

THE INHABITANTS OF
NOTTINGHAMSHIRE

THIS BOOK

IS

DEDICATED

## PREFACE

When this volume was originally planned the editorship was placed in the able and experienced hands of Mr. W. P. W. Phillimore, but pressure of work compelled his resignation before many essays had been selected. The present editor then took up the work, and has now brought it to a conclusion. The delay caused by the change of editor has not affected the matter in any of the essays except that on “Nottinghamshire Poets.” This paper was originally written four or five years ago, and since then some of the criticisms have been made and published by other writers.

The present editor has tried to choose his subjects from a field as varied as possible, and he ventures to think that papers will be found here which will be welcome both on account of the matter to be found in them and because of the novelty of the subject.

Nor must it be thought for a moment that the choice of interesting subjects is by any means exhausted. Enough material could easily be found to fill a second and perhaps even a third volume.

It only remains for the editor to thank all who by their contributions, helpful advice, and encouragement have made the task of compiling this small tribute to the memory of a great county a pleasure.

EVERARD L. GUILFORD.

Lenton Avenue, Nottingham,

June 1912.

## CONTENTS

|  | Page
--- | --- | ---
Historical Nottinghamshire | By Everard L. Guilford, M.A. | 1
The Medieval Church Architecture of Nottinghamshire | By A. Hamilton Thompson, M.A., F.S.A. | 12
Newstead Priory and the Religious Houses of Nottinghamshire | By Rev. J. Charles Cox, LL.D., F.S.A. | 54
Wollaton Hall | By J. A. Gotch, F.S.A. | 77
The Ancient and Modern Trent | By Bernard Smith, M.A. | 88
The Forest of Sherwood | By Rev. J. Charles Cox, LL.D., F.S.A. | 106
Roods, Screens, and Lofts in Nottinghamshire | By Aymer Vallance, F.S.A. | 124
The Civil War in Nottinghamshire | By Everard L. Guilford, M.A. | 168
Nottinghamshire Poets | By John Russell, M.A. | 193
Nottingham | By W. P. W. Phillimore | 228
Southwell | By W. E. Hodgson | 239
Nottinghamshire Spires | By Harry Gill | 270
The Low Side Windows of Nottinghamshire | By Harry Gill | 295
The Nottingham Mint | By Frank E. Burton, F.R.N.S., J.P. | 306
The Clockmakers of Newark-on-Trent, with Notes on some of their Contemporaries | By H. Cook | 323
Index | 339

## LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Nottingham. The Old Trent Bridge | (From engraving after McArthur; from a photograph by A. Lineker, Nottingham) | Frontispiece
|  | Page, or Facing Page
--- | --- | ---
Blyth Priory Church | (From a photograph by H. Gill) | 20
South Scarle: Nave North Arcade | (From a photograph by J. Selby) | 26
Southwell Minster: East End |  | 32
Southwell Minster: Capital in the Chapter House | (From photographs by E. L. Guilford) | 32
Barnby in the Willows. | (South Side of the Chancel) | 42
Car Colston | (From photographs by E. L. Guilford) | 42
Newstead Priory: Buck’s West View, 1726 | (From a photograph by Donald Macbeth, London) | 60
Plan of Newstead Priory | (From a plan by Rev. R. H. Whitworth) | 71
Plan of Wollaton Hall, by John Thorpe |  | 78
Wollaton Hall: Ground Plan, 1901 |  | 80
Wollaton Hall: Half-elevation, by John Thorpe |  | 80
Wollaton Hall |  | 81
Wollaton Hall: Plan by Smithson |  | 82
Wollaton Hall: Elevation of Corner Pavilion, by Smithson |  | 82
Wollaton Hall: the Orchard. Plan by Smithson |  | 84
Wollaton Hall: the Screen, by Smithson |  | 84
Wollaton Hall: Panel in the Screen, by Smithson |  | 86
Wollaton Hall: Panel in the Frieze above the Screen, by Smithson |  | 86
Plan and Section of the Trent Valley South-east of Nottingham |  | 92
Map of the Trent Valley between Clifton and Collingham |  | 94
The Great Flood of October 1875. (View from Nottingham Castle looking South) | (By permission of the Geological Survey and Museum) | 96
The Trent separating Holme from North Muskham |  | 99
Burton and Bole Rounds, after a Map by Mr. Gurnill, sen., Gainsborough, 1795 |  | 103
Specimen of Sherwood Forest Roll | (From a photograph by Donald Macbeth, London) | 112
Blyth Priory Church: Screen in the Nave | (From a photograph by A. Lineker, Nottingham) | 126
West Bridgford: Old Rood-Screen. (Now in South Aisle of enlarged Church) |  | 130
Holme Church toward the South-east from the Nave | (From a drawing by Messrs. Saunders & Saunders) | 137
Newark Church: Rood-Screen, from the North-west |  | 146
Southwell Minster: Pulpitum, from the West |  | 154
Southwell Minster: Pulpitum, from the East | (From a photograph by A. Lineker, Nottingham) | 154
Strelley Church: Rood-Screen | (Measured and drawn by F. E. Collingham) | 158
Wysall Church: Rood-Screen | (From a photograph by A. Vallance) | 166
Siege Plan of Newark | (From C. Brown’s “History of Newark”) | 188
Robert Dodsley | (From the portrait by Gainsborough) | 200
Philip James Bailey. “Festus” | (By kind permission of Miss Carey) | 210
Halam |  | 272
Sompting |  | 273
Bradmore |  | 274
Compton, Sussex |  | 275
Gotham, Notts |  | 275
Burton Joyce | (From a photograph by H. Gill) | 277
Wollaton | (From a photograph by H. Gill) | 277
Normanton-on-Soar | (From a photograph by H. Gill) | 277
Edwinstowe | (From a photograph by H. Gill) | 277
Normanton-on-Soar |  | 277
Ratcliffe-on-Soar |  | 278
Mansfield Woodhouse |  | 279
Squinches, Edwinstowe |  | 281
Gedling | (From a photograph by W. H. Kirkland) | 282
West Retford |  | 282
Gedling |  | 283
Newark | (From F. Bond’s “Gothic Architecture of England”) | 284
Bingham | (From F. Bond’s “Gothic Architecture of England”) | 284
Thoroton | (From a photograph by H. Gill) | 290
Car Colston | (From a photograph by H. Gill) | 290
Keyworth | (From a photograph by Thomas Wright) | 290
Upton | (From a photograph by H. Gill) | 290
Bradmore |  | 293
Laxton |  | 296
Costock | (From a photograph by H. Gill) | 296
Haughton | (From a photograph by H. Gill) | 296
Car Colston | (From a photograph by H. Gill) | 305
Linby | (From a photograph by H. Gill) | 305
Coins. Athelstan to Stephen | (From a photograph by Mr. S. Barlow Vines) | 309
Newark Siege Pieces. Half-crowns and Shillings | (From a photograph by Mr. S. Barlow Vines) | 314
Newark Siege Pieces. Ninepences and Sixpences | (From a photograph by Mr. S. Barlow Vines) | 316
Tokens | (From a photograph by Mr. S. Barlow Vines) | 318
Tokens | (From a photograph by Mr. S. Barlow Vines) | 320
Clocks by William Gascoyne and Nicholas Goddard |  | 326
Clocks by William Barnard and Edward Smith |  | 326
Clocks by S. Bettison, W. Barnard, and W. Unwin |  | 332
Clocks by Humphrey Wainwright and Will. Foster |  | 332
Sketch Map of Nottinghamshire |  | at end

[1]

## HISTORICAL NOTTINGHAMSHIRE
By Everard L. Guilford, M.A.

Modern historians look askance at the writers of fifty years ago, their methods, and their results. Their work is unreliable, supported by little documentary evidence, and therefore of no worth. But these despised historians of an earlier generation did what many modern writers forget to do—they made history live. They remembered that the characters in the great drama were once such men and women as themselves, and they tried to reproduce them as such. Their frequent inexactitudes in the light of modern knowledge have discountenanced this school, and the pendulum has swung to the opposite extreme. No statement is accepted unless it can be amply and substantially supported by documentary evidence, and, what is more, if I may use the expression, by documentary evidence of the bluest blood. Thus it is that our national history, and more especially our local history, has lost many of those picturesque sketches which riveted our attention and, like the piers of a bridge, helped us to span the intervening gulf of interminable yet necessary detail. Nowadays we must eradicate from our minds the stories of such heroes as Robin Hood and place them among the national fairy tales. This is quite an unnecessary surgical operation. It is as though we cut off our leg to cure a sprained ankle. Much may be learnt from the adventures of Robin Hood if we regard them from the social point of view, for we can obtain from them no mean nor incorrect idea of what England, and particularly Nottinghamshire, was like in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries.

[2]

I do not wish it to be thought that the importance of documents is disregarded, but rather that they can be used much more than they have been in conjunction with tradition and the study of natural features. In this sense the study of local history is still in its infancy. Some historians have even gone so far as to refuse to consider Nottingham prior to the first definite date recorded—868 A.D. This is mere stupidity, this erring on the safe side. One other side of the question I would venture to point out before I deal more particularly with Nottinghamshire history, and that is that it is impossible to gain a clear and correct knowledge of a district without making a personal acquaintance with the territory in question. Large scale maps will do much to help, but a tramp through the land under consideration will give clearer insight into the minds of the men who made the country, the natural features and the artificial features will then assume their proper positions and due proportions, and the why and the wherefore will in many cases be as clear as the noonday sun.

Nottinghamshire has a great history—greater perhaps than any of its sons realise—a history reflecting in miniature the history of the country at large. The tale of all that has happened in this little Midland shire cannot be rightly understood unless we appreciate the importance of its geographical position and its natural features. Nottinghamshire is par excellence the Midland shire. Its four neighbours all differ from one another, and Nottinghamshire in its turn partakes of the characteristics of that which is nearest. Hence we have a county of very varied character with two strongly predominating features—Sherwood Forest and the Trent. Both of these have played a great part in local history, the latter especially, for the importance of the former was more trivial and not so permanent. Truly the “smug and silver Trent” is the predominating feature in whatever way we consider Nottinghamshire. By it the middle of England could be reached by sea-going ships, and the commerce of the world distributed through districts[3] otherwise extremely hard to reach. Besides the Trent served as a boundary between north and south England for legal and ecclesiastical purposes. The crossings of the Trent at Nottingham and Newark gave to these towns no small measure of their medieval importance; they became keys to the north.

The earliest human inhabitants of these islands had a predilection for dwelling in caves, and we know that they were able to attain to their desires in one place at least within the county—at Cresswell Crags. Their remains are so scanty that we can readily believe that they were few in number, perhaps mere northerly outliers on the edge of a great uninhabitable unknown. These men we call the Palæolithic men, and their successors—though there is a great gap between—the Neolithic men. We have good reason to believe that in the earliest times Britain was not separated from the Continent, but we are certain that this cleavage took place before Neolithic man made these shores his home. In Nottinghamshire at any rate Neolithic man was much more numerous than his predecessors had been, assuming that we may argue the comparative population of races by the quantity and distribution of their remains. Of neither of these races, nor of any that succeeded them till we come to the Britons, can we obtain any fact which we can safely place on the modern side of the distant border between history and pre-history.

The historians of the picturesque era brought the British period into bad repute, just as the writers of thirty or forty years ago discountenanced archaeology by classifying all architecture of uncertain age as Saxon. But if we want to get at the truth we must not be frightened of the pre-Roman days. The Britons were after all very human, and acted in given circumstances as men may always be expected to do. We must not look for their fords at the deepest parts of the river’s course, nor must we expect their roads to take a difficult ascent where an easy slope presents itself.

[4]

The publication of the first two volumes of the Victoria History of the County of Nottingham is an event of great importance to local historians and archaeologists. The volumes, in which are gathered all the store of present knowledge, show us how much we really know, and how much work lies before the earnest seeker for the truth. A list of more than a hundred earthworks is given, and of these hardly one has been adequately explored, and yet each holds some secret which would help us to a greater knowledge of our county’s story.

Historians nowadays divide the Britons into three races who came to these shores one after the other, beginning about 600 B.C. and ending only a short half century or so before the Romans arrived. The first to come were the Goidels, with whom we have no concern, then came the Brythons, who inhabited at the arrival of Cæsar all Britain north of the Thames, and finally, south of the Thames, were the Belgæ. Nottinghamshire of course did not then exist as a county, but the use of the term must be excused because of its obvious convenience. So then Nottinghamshire was inhabited by a Brythonic tribe called the Coritani, a peace-loving, sparsely-scattered race, who offered no resistance to the Roman invaders, and of whom we know but the one fact that they existed. It seems hardly necessary to point out that Julius Cæsar’s two exploratory expeditions do not concern us. They were passing incidents whose importance has been greatly exaggerated by the survival of the Roman leader’s account of his little war. It was not until a hundred years later that the Roman world realised that there were still lands unconquered to the west. The realisation was father to the accomplishment, and within a very few years—by 50 A.D. to be precise—the Roman wave had passed over Nottinghamshire, and, what is more, had passed over very lightly.

Historians of the Romano-British period ignore Nottinghamshire as containing nothing meriting notice, but the truth is that few or no efforts have been made to find[5] out more. There are four acknowledged Roman stations within our borders, and of these two remain totally unexplored, the exact sites even unknown, while only tentative explorations have been undertaken on the remaining two sites. Yet, while it can claim no such important station as Ratæ or Lindum within its borders, Nottinghamshire cannot really be ignored, for it occupies an intermediary position in Roman Britain between the hardy north, where there was seldom peace, and the fertile and peaceful south, where the colonists could live a life more congenial to their southern desires. After all negative fact is often extremely useful. Why did not Nottinghamshire assume a more important position in Roman Britain? Why was not a strong station fixed on the twin hills of Nottingham? No race with self-protective instincts would ignore such a strong position as this, and yet the Romans passed hastily from Ratæ to Lindum without approaching Nottingham. To have utilised the British trackway which almost certainly crossed the Trent, passed through the camp on St. Mary’s Hill at Nottingham, and vanished into the dark forests to the north, would have brought into operation forces against which the Romans seldom opposed themselves if they could be avoided. A road driven through open country is more easily defended than one which carves its way through many miles of dense forest, and even when the forest was passed there lay to the north a wide marshy expanse, watered by the Idle, now a well-drained fertile tract, but formerly a wilderness of morass. The strong natural position of Nottingham would not appeal so forcibly to the Romans as it did to later invaders. It was then more a river town than a road town, and the Roman system of defence and communication ignored rivers as much as possible. Leicester and Lincoln could be linked together without any interference from the Trent, while the road from Lincoln to Doncaster was in every way suitable to Roman engineering—an easy ford over the Trent, and then a road for the most part over raised ground, which avoided[6] the marshes of the Idle and the Cars to the north, and ran on the narrow crest of the hills between Drakeholes and Scaftworth.

Nottinghamshire in Saxon times was a piece of essentially border territory. When the kingdoms of the Heptarchy were fighting among themselves the boundaries were ever changing, so that at one time a piece of Nottinghamshire would be in Lindsey, another piece in Northumbria, and yet a third in Mercia. During the early part of the Saxon period it was pretty equally divided between Northumbria and Mercia, but during the Danish invasions it was entirely Mercian. Of actual history there is little, yet one or two facts there are which must be recorded. About 630 St. Paulinus introduced Christianity into the valley of the Trent, while in 617 Rædwald of East Anglia, sheltering Edwin the exile King of Northumbria, defeated the usurper Æthelfrith at the battle of the Idle, fought, I am inclined to think, at Rainworth. This battle gave Edwin a kingdom which he kept until his death in 633 at the hands of Penda at Heathfield, perhaps near Doncaster, perhaps just north of Sherwood Forest.

It was not until some common foe appeared that the Saxons ceased from intertribal warfare. During the early part of the ninth century all western Europe had suffered from the cruel plunderings and harryings of the Vikings—great sailors and great soldiers, whose fierce strength gave them the victory over higher though more effete civilisations than their own. Wave after wave of these fierce invaders broke on our shores, but could find no resting-place. But at length the Danes came to stay, and soon the north and east were overrun by these virile warriors. York fell in 867, and in the next year Nottingham yielded reluctantly to the Danish yoke, and entered on a bondage which was to bear so grand a result in the hardy hybrid race who peopled the East Midlands during the tenth and eleventh centuries. It was left for the Danes to recognise the strategic importance of the twin rocks that stand sentinel above the[7] Trent. Every school-boy knows all about the Five Boroughs, and in this loose confederacy Nottingham probably occupied the premier place. What is perhaps of most importance to history is that the Danish jarls who ruled in each of these towns held sway over territory which a few years later was to be formed by Edward the Elder into the counties of Nottinghamshire, Derbyshire, Leicestershire, and Lincolnshire, the great size of the last being due to the union of the jarldoms of Lincoln and Stamford. The English revival under Edward the Elder led to the emancipation of the East Mercians, and at Nottingham we hear that the town was fortified and “occupied by English as by Danes.” This phrase may possibly imply the existence of a Danish as well as a Saxon town, each on its rock and each with its own defensive earthwork.

We must pass over the brief invasion of the Five Boroughs by Anlaf Guthfrithson, the quarrels of Eadgar with Eadwig, and Æthelred with Cnut, and pass to the period shortly before the Norman Conquest, when we find that England is divided into several great earldoms. Though Nottinghamshire was at first part of a small earldom with Leicester, yet soon it appears to have formed part of Siward’s vast Northumbrian territory.

The history of Nottinghamshire after the Norman Conquest has been told many times, and therefore may be treated in a more cursory manner. William the Conqueror was at Nottingham in 1068, and then passed on, leaving the castle to be rebuilt by his powerful dependent William Peverel. It is almost certain that the English were sufficiently strong in the county to merit consideration, and in the county town itself we find that two boroughs were definitely established, an English and a French, each constitutionally separate and each surviving in name, if not in fact, till comparatively modern times. The great feudal castle at Nottingham becomes the dominating factor in the history of the town for the next 150 years, but before the end of this we see the awakenings of commercial and[8] corporate life. The great forest of Sherwood provided a playground for kings, and throughout the county religious houses were founded to give knowledge to the people, alms to the poor, and rest to the weary.

This county played a large part in the civil war of Stephen’s reign; both the castles of Nottingham and Newark were in the King’s hands, though the former changed sides several times, and in the process the town, whose prosperity and beauty Florence of Worcester belauds, was burnt.

Henry II. had no intention of having Nottingham Castle held against him should occasion arise, and in 1155 he took possession of it himself, and at the same time ordered all adulterine castles to be dismantled. Probably Cuckney Castle was one of these latter, and there were almost certainly others, but the matter is obscure.

Henry II. gave the castle of Nottingham to his favourite son John in 1174, and it remained this despicable prince’s chief and most frequented residence, and here he made his rebellious stand against his brother Richard, until he was ejected in 1194. It was in this year that Richard discovered the suitability of Sherwood Forest for a royal hunting-ground, and on April 17 he met the King of the Scots at Clipstone.

After the conference at Runnymede had driven John into a corner, that treacherous monarch determined to make a last stand at Nottingham Castle, which he ordered Philip Marc, the constable, to prepare for a siege. Newark, too, was faithful to John, though the surrounding country was suffering much at the hands of his enemies. It is fitting that, as John had loved this county and been loved by it, he should end his worthless life here, and perhaps here alone was he regretted when he passed away at Newark.

To all intents and purposes the history of Nottingham itself is the history of the whole county. The character of this history undergoes a change early in the thirteenth century. Henceforth Nottingham the town attracts our[9] attention instead of Nottingham the castle as formerly. To quote Mrs. J. R. Green, “The interest of its history lies in the quiet picture that is given of a group of active and thriving traders at peace with their neighbours, and for the most part at peace with themselves.” Commercial Nottingham owes everything to its magnificent geographical position and fruitful geological formation. No marauders pillaged it, no warring barons held it to ransom and impoverished it. It dwelt in peace and grew in prosperity. Linen and woollen goods, ironwork, bells, brazen pots, goldsmiths’ work, images, and ale were all made in this wealthy town. During the fourteenth century the coal that lay all along the western border of the county began to be worked, and rich quarries of stone were cut to build the churches and houses that sprang up everywhere. Compared with other towns in the Middle Ages there seems to have been a noticeable absence of poverty in Nottingham.

We have seen how John used Nottingham as his headquarters in his insurrection, and 200 years afterwards Richard II. attempted his coup d’êtat there—an attempt which was to have made the King absolute.

Nottinghamshire had been but little affected by the Hundred Years War. Except for an occasional demand for men or supplies—a demand frequently occurring in connection with the Scotch wars of the end of the thirteenth century—the records of the county are barren. The fifteenth century saw the suicide of feudalism in the Wars of the Roses, and here again Nottingham’s policy was a purely commercial one. It was quite immaterial to her which side gained the victory, so long as her trade was not interfered with, and so we find that whichever side was on the top, to that side did the powers that be in Nottingham send congratulations and men.

Edward IV. and Richard III. were much at Nottingham, and to both of them the castle owed much. It was from here that Richard set out to fight his last fight at Bosworth, and a few years later the river meadows beneath the rock[10] were black with the troops of Henry VII., drawn together to meet the puppet of the Yorkists, Lambert Simnel. Henry passed from Nottingham to Newark and thence down the Fosse Way, while Simnel’s troops crossed from Mansfield to the Trent, which they forded, and met the King at East Stoke. This one important battle in the county’s history was a most bloody affair, and the pretender’s forces were completely routed.

The Tudors for the most part neglected this county, and though we meet with such men as Wolsey and Cranmer now and then, they are but lights that emphasise the darkness.

Nottinghamshire was shortly to awake from its lethargic commercialism to its great struggle during the seventeenth century between the King and the Parliament, between Newark and Nottingham, a struggle which harassed the trade of the towns and ruined the agriculture of the villages, which saw the standard of war raised at Nottingham, and the unhappy King surrender himself at Kelham. Newark gained eternal honour, and the county showed itself the birthplace of great men.

If we except the industrial riots of the early nineteenth century, Nottinghamshire was to feel but once more the stirrings of civil strife; the invasion of England by the Young Pretender progressed as far as Derby, but the reputation of the fierce Scots covered a much wider field, and the horrors of war were felt to be very close at hand.

But we must glance back for a moment and record the invention in 1589 of the stocking-frame by the Rev. William Lee, curate of Calverton. Like many great inventors Lee was unlucky and without profit in his own country, yet, if we may be permitted to quote Master Ridley’s famous dying words, Lee had lit “such a candle, by God’s grace, in England, as I trust shall never be put out.” This stocking-frame was the small beginning whence came the great lace and hosiery trades which, during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, may be said to have been the staple[11] industries of the county. Almost every village round Nottingham earned its living by hosiery, and before the days of the big factories, in 1812, there were said to be 30,000 frames at work.

It is impossible here to do more than state the fact that every great invention in the cotton trade emanated from Nottinghamshire. We have mentioned the early beginnings of the coal trade, and since then this mighty industry has continued to spread, until now it occupies the attention of one-third of the county, and in the near future it will undoubtedly spread further.

Such is a brief history of Nottinghamshire, and though we realise that history is still being made, it behoves us to turn now and then, and by considering the past, try to wrest its secret from the Sphinx.

[12]

## THE MEDIEVAL CHURCH ARCHITECTURE OF NOTTINGHAMSHIRE
By A. Hamilton Thompson, M.A., F.S.A.

Nottinghamshire probably has received less than its due from students of English architecture in the past. Its more easily accessible churches, Newark or St. Mary’s at Nottingham, naturally have attracted some attention; and the noble collegiate church of Southwell has never been neglected by intelligent lovers of medieval art. Newstead, dear to the illustrators of anthologies, is usually remembered as the home of Byron and a subject of his verse. Blyth and Thurgarton, however, are little known to the majority of Englishmen. Few people know of the beautiful, if unpretentious, work of the thirteenth century which is to be found in the churches of the Trent valley between Newark and Gainsborough. While frequent allusion has been made to the Easter sepulchre, the chief glory of the chancel of Hawton, little attention has been given to the fact that this chancel is simply a member of a group of fourteenth-century chancels, which, though not confined to Nottinghamshire, possesses its most finished examples within or close to the borders of the county. It is true that, for the most part, Nottinghamshire parish churches are simple and unambitious in plan and elevation alike. Their plans present few variations from the normal type. Here, as elsewhere throughout the north and eastern midlands, the aisleless nave developed, in the ordinary course of things, into the nave with aisles, western tower, and south porch. The rectangular chancel was lengthened, and here and there, as occasion served, was provided with one or[13] more chapels. But while, in adjacent counties, considerable architectural development followed this expansion of plan, Nottinghamshire builders were on the whole content to build churches which were adequate for the services of the parish, without attempting to give them any special magnificence of outward form and decoration. This simplicity of design, however, has an architectural interest of its own, as throwing considerable light on the methods of local masons, who remained unaffected by the ambition of neighbouring schools of art.

Geographically, Nottinghamshire presented no obstacle to a general architectural development on lines similar to those which were pursued in other midland counties. Only a small district of the county, on the north-west, reaches an elevation of from 400 to 600 feet above sea-level: a height of 600 feet is exceeded only here and there. The great stream of the Trent provided for building material a main artery of water-carriage from which no part of the county was altogether remote. The quarries of Ancaster, to which Lincolnshire architecture owes so much, were within easy reach of Newark and the vale of Belvoir. There was good building stone within the shire at Mansfield, Maplebeck, and Tuxford. Moreover, the general state of Nottinghamshire in the middle ages seems to have been highly prosperous: laymen were well-to-do, and few, if any, counties of the size can show such an array of well-endowed chantry foundations as that which it possessed at the close of the period. It possessed a centre of ecclesiastical influence at Southwell; and, although there was no religious house of the first class within its borders, there were several fairly important houses of canons regular, which might be expected to provide models for architectural work in their neighbourhood.

It is probable, however, that, at any rate in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, much of the skilled workmanship of the district was attracted eastwards by the splendid growth of architecture which took place within the sphere[14] of the trade route to Boston and in the neighbourhood of the growing port of Hull. These provinces of art, again, must have drawn towards them, and away from Nottinghamshire, masons brought up within the architectural influence of Lincoln and York. As Nottinghamshire formed the southern archdeaconry of the diocese of York, we should naturally expect to find some Yorkshire influence upon its buildings. This, as we shall see, was undoubtedly the case. The influence of York upon Southwell is strong, and the churches of north Nottinghamshire have a strong family likeness to those of south Yorkshire. Again, the chapter of Lincoln possessed a large amount of property in the wapentake of Newark, and in this part of the county it is possible to trace at an early date an architectural spirit which had its origin at Lincoln. The fact, however, remains that, while Nottinghamshire possesses several individual churches which are fully equal in beauty to those of south Lincolnshire or south-east Yorkshire, it stood outside the main current of architectural progress which set in, as the middle ages advanced, towards the Humber and the Wash.

It may be said that the direct influence of ecclesiastical foundations upon churches connected with them was probably much less than is usually supposed. A large collegiate church, such as Southwell, which played its part as a central point in the ecclesiastical life of the county, and owned much local property, might have considerable effect upon the progress of local architecture. The chapter and its individual canons would be responsible for the repair of chancels in their impropriated churches. Where they were lords of the manor as well as impropriators, their care for the fabric might go still further. The same thing is true of monasteries. But it must be remembered that, as in our own day, so then, no corporation as lord of the manor, and still more as rector, would go out of its way to beautify its possessions at unnecessary expense. Its interest lay in the income to be derived from the churches, not in the[15] money which it might be possible to expend upon them. The statement, so common in uncritical writers, that the religious houses throughout the land built churches broadcast, rests on no sound historical basis. It is far more accurate to say that they simply built where they were obliged to do so, and that then they did their utmost to avoid expense. The church west of the chancel lay outside their province. Its maintenance was the duty of the parishioners. In churches where they merely owned the advowson, the rector, their presentee, was responsible for the chancel. Where they were impropriators, they usually avoided part of their obligations by charging their vicar with a sensible part of the repairs of the chancel. Thus, Worksop priory undertook, in 1283–84, three-quarters of the repairs of the chancel at Walkeringham: the vicar was charged with the remaining quarter.[1] Many arrangements of this kind could be cited. At Newark, in 1428, St. Katherine’s priory at Lincoln undertook the whole upkeep of the chancel; but the vicar, on his part, was made wholly responsible for the vicarage house.[2] In any case, a monastery would save itself unnecessary expense, if possible. This is not to be wondered at, if the whole question of monastic finances in the middle ages, and the pressure of debt which constantly weighed upon even the larger houses, is considered. The constant excuse for appropriating an advowson was one of poverty, nor did bishops sanction appropriations without a conventional demur.

These circumstances taken into account, it will be seen that the religious houses cannot be credited with any great architectural influence upon the churches belonging to them. For necessary repairs in parish churches they would employ local masons, who would charge them little, and execute their work neatly and adequately. It is true that there are exceptions. The vast aisled chancel of[16] Newark was planned on an unusually liberal scale; but it may fairly be assumed that the work was put in the hands of skilled local craftsmen who had no direct connection with St. Katherine’s priory. Nor can any special architectural relationship be discovered between the chancel of Newark and the vanished church of the impropriating house. It may also be noted that, until the fourteenth century, the number of churches appropriated to monasteries in Nottinghamshire was not large. By the time of the suppression of the monasteries, a third of the churches of the county were appropriated to religious houses, and of these about a third belonged to monasteries outside the county, Westminster abbey holding six.[3] This, however, does not represent the proportion of appropriated churches during the time of the greatest architectural activity. The number of churches, on the other hand, appropriated to prebendaries of Southwell and members of other collegiate bodies, such as the dean and chapter of Lincoln,[4] or the warden and canons of St. Mary and the Holy Angels at York,[5] was considerable from the twelfth century onwards. Yet it is impossible to trace any general attempt at architectural improvement on the part of ecclesiastical bodies or their individual members. Here and there we may suspect something; but the general rule is one of sound practical building on local lines, following the general current of architectural growth prevalent throughout the length and breadth of England, and touched now and then by the work of a neighbouring school of masons whose mastery of their craft was superior to the homely dialect of the[17] Nottinghamshire craftsmen. In most parishes the lord of the manor may be regarded as the principal contributor, who may have helped with the chancel, if he occupied a seat there, and would have been the ruling spirit in the building of the nave. The rector, often a non-resident, would be the repairer and rebuilder of the chancel, and may often have been forced to do his duty unwillingly. The builders, save in exceptional instances, were, we may well believe, masons of the village or neighbourhood, who were also the builders and repairers of the manor-house and such stone dwellings as the village might possess. For the furniture of the church the local carpenter and painter would be called in. In our own day, when we are familiar with the professional architect who restores our village churches, and with improved means of communication between place and place, it is difficult to imagine that our villages possessed the necessary talent for all this work. Architecture, however, in the middle ages was a general, democratic art: building was a part of the practical life of the English village, and the stonework of the place was a topic of current interest and intelligence, not yet relegated to the province of archæology.

There are few buildings remaining in the county which can be said to contain traces of pre-Conquest work. Foundations of a church which is very probably of Saxon date have been uncovered at East Bridgford. The tower of the church of Carlton-in-Lindrick belongs to the type of late Saxon tower, of which there are many examples in north Lincolnshire. It was originally unbuttressed, and in, each face of its belfry stage was a double window opening, divided by a mid-wall shaft. In the fifteenth century an upper belfry stage and buttresses were added to the tower; the large dressed blocks of grey stone, of which these additions are composed, afford an interesting contrast to the rubble work of the older portion of the structure. In another volume of this series the[18] present writer has attempted to show that a pre-Conquest date cannot with certainty be assigned to towers of this class, although there can be no doubt that the type originated during the Saxon period.[6] The presence of “herring-bone” masonry in the tower is a distinct indication of its post-Conquest date. “Herring-bone” coursing never occurs in portions of a fabric, of the Saxon origin of which there can be no doubt. At Brixworth, in Northamptonshire, it is found only in a portion of the tower, above the definitely Saxon work which remains: it occurs, again, in a part of the crypt at York, for the traditionally early date of which there is absolutely no evidence. On the other hand, by far the most extensive use of “herring-bone” masonry is in the walling of early castles, which were certainly not raised before the Conquest, but owed their origin to the conquerors. The curtains of Tamworth, Corfe, Lincoln, Richmond, and Hastings, the keep of Colchester, works of the later portion of the eleventh century, are imposing examples of the use of this method of masonry. It is not even a method which can be attributed to English workmen: it is found in Normandy, and is used on a grand scale in the interior of the donjon at Falaise. Where it is found in churches, therefore, it probably indicates Norman influence at a period soon after the Conquest; while it may be taken as a criterion for doubting seriously the pre-Conquest date of work that seems at first sight rude and primitive enough to be attributed to English masons before the coming of the Normans. Thus there is “herring-bone” coursing in the north wall of the nave at East Leake, found in company with small and narrow windows, the heads of which are not arched, but composed of flat lintels, with a segmental cut in their lower surface. At West Leake, where, as at East Leake, a south aisle was added to the fabric, but the north wall was left untouched,[19] the window openings are similar, and the masonry is equally rude, but there is no “herring-bone” work. There are several examples in Nottinghamshire churches of walls, in which roughly tooled masonry, bedded in thick masses of mortar, and not infrequently arranged in “herring-bone” courses, occurs; and the pre-Conquest date of some of these—Oxton and Plumtree are cases in point—needs careful consideration. The most important cases of “herring-bone” work are found in the churches which fringe the left bank of the Trent below Newark—Averham, South Muskham, Cromwell, Laneham, and Littleborough. In the last two, which are the chief instances, the case for a pre-Conquest date is very poor. The proportions of the fabrics, both at Laneham and Littleborough, in which we find this masonry, have nothing about them which is peculiarly Saxon. On the contrary, while the earliest work at Laneham, the tower and tower-arch, is possibly earlier than the twelfth century, the whole fabric at Littleborough is an ordinary “Norman” aisleless church of twelfth-century character. It may be added that, on the opposite bank of the Trent, “herring-bone” masonry is hardly less common. At Marton, opposite Littleborough, it is used in the very uncommon method employed at Tamworth castle, with two horizontal layers of long, thin stones between the diagonal courses; while, at Upton in the same neighbourhood, the whole south wall of an originally aisleless church, somewhat larger than that of Littleborough, and as thoroughly of the twelfth century in its design and proportions, is composed of very regular “herring-bone” coursing.

The whole problem of the work of English masons after the Conquest is one for the solution of which we have as yet no definite data. These Nottinghamshire examples can hardly be said to do more than leave the question where they find it. The one thing that can be said positively is that such churches were built in country places at small expense, and without the trouble of dressing stone in large[20] blocks of regular size, which was taken in cases where more money was probably forthcoming. Such buildings, it need hardly be said, were intended to have an outer as well as an inner coat of plaster. The masonry, when exposed, is interesting, but unsightly. Far different was the case with the larger churches of the Norman period in England, with the rubble core of their walling faced, out and in, with courses of dressed stone. Of these churches, in which principles of construction were gradually developed by the attempt of the builders to solve the problem offered by the stone roof and its abutments, Nottinghamshire possesses two, the priory church of Blyth and the collegiate church of Southwell. Blyth was the church of a priory of Norman Benedictines, founded in 1088 as a cell to the abbey of La Trinité on the Mont-Ste-Cathérine at Rouen. The eastern portion of the church is now gone, but the nave and north aisle of the original building remain. These must have been built very soon after the foundation: their characteristics are those of the eleventh-century Romanesque of Normandy, as we see it in the large Benedictine churches of Bernay (Eure) and Jumièges (Seine-Inférieure). The masonry with which the building is faced is composed chiefly of cubical blocks of dressed stone with wide joints. The arches of the main arcades are round-headed, and of two orders, unmoulded: both orders spring from a single soffit shaft with a trapezoidal capital and heavy abacus. The piers dividing the arches are square blocks of wall, in front of each of which a bold semi-circular shaft rises to the level of the springing of the triforium arcade. The string-course at the sill of the triforium arcade is continued as a band round the vaulting shafts. Each bay of the triforium is pierced by a single archway, about a third of the height of the corresponding arch of the main arcade. Each of these arches is of two orders: the supports are formed by the rectangular recessing of the intermediate piers, and the arches spring from impost-blocks recessed to match. The construction of the triforium is thus more logical and symmetrical than [21]that of the main arcade below, in which the two orders of the arches find no correspondence in the jambs. The clerestory is composed of a single round-headed opening in each bay, set in the outer face of the wall. The nave originally was not vaulted, but in the thirteenth century the vaulting shafts were adapted to receive the springing of a quadripartite vault, the ribs of which spring at the level already mentioned. Both aisles, however, were probably vaulted. At the end of the thirteenth century, a very wide south aisle was built for the sake of the parochial services, and the older aisle was removed. The north aisle, however, is left as it was: each bay is covered with a groined vault of plastered rubble. The groins are winding and irregular. The builders were evidently alive to the difficulty of keeping the crown of their vault level, where the compartment with which they had to deal was oblong in shape; and the groins are made to spring, not from the same point as the transverse arches dividing each bay, but from small stilts set rather awkwardly upon the springing blocks. The whole work is severely plain: the capitals of the soffit shafts of the main arcade have small volutes at their angles, and there is simple grotesque carving on the flat face of the capitals between the volutes. One of the bases also has an excellent double roll carved in cable fashion.

Blyth Priory Church.

The date of this work is of some importance in the general history of English architecture. Apart from the early work at Westminster, few churches in England, built wholly under Norman influence, can have been completed at an earlier date than Blyth, although the building of several was in progress at the time when Blyth was founded. The largest eleventh-century church in the neighbourhood, that of Lincoln, was consecrated in 1092; and the remains of the earliest work there have much in common with Blyth—the wide-jointed masonry, unmoulded arches, voluted capitals, broad triforium arches, and single clerestory openings. The date of the consecration of Blyth,[22] however, is unrecorded, and it should be borne in mind that the work in 1088 would have been begun with the eastern arm, of which there is nothing left. All, therefore, that can be said about it is, that it is approximately contemporary with the eleventh-century work at Lincoln, and that the elevation adopted in the lateral walls of both churches probably supplied a model to the builders of Southwell. The monks’ quire at Blyth extended one bay west of the crossing, and, at a later date, was divided from the nave by a solid wall the whole height of the building. On this wall, towards the nave, remain traces of painting: the eastern bay of the nave is open to the garden of the modern hall near the church, and was used for some time as an aviary.

The great church of Southwell, as it stands, was begun in the days of Thomas II., archbishop of York from 1109 to 1114. The eastern arm was terminated by a rectangular chancel, while the aisles ended in apses, the walls of which were rounded externally as well as internally. Traces alone remain of this interesting plan.[7] The transepts of the twelfth-century church remain, though the apsidal chapels to the east of them have gone: the whole of the nave and south porch, the central tower, and two western towers form one work with the transepts. The general character of this work is of a rather late Romanesque type. The gables of the transepts are filled with a relieved honeycomb pattern which bears some affinity to that used in the gables abutting on the lower stages of the western towers at Lincoln. The date of the Lincoln work has been supposed to lie between 1123 and 1148, but is very probably even later than the second date. The rich string-course of chevron ornament which, in spite of some mutilation, is still continued round the nave and transepts of Southwell at the level of the sills of the aisle windows, and is raised to form the segmental head of the doorway in the south transept, is another[23] feature which points to the late completion of the western part of the church. The northern and western doorways of the nave, the first of five, the second of four shafted orders, in addition to the continuous inner order of rows of chevrons, have a refinement of detail which suggests a date not earlier than 1150. In the side walls of the north porch, the lower stage of the central tower, and the top stage but one of the north-west tower, are arcades of intersecting rounded arches. In the south-west tower, however, the arcade in the top stage but one consists of pointed arches. The probability is that the work was slowly achieved, and was not finished until the third quarter of the twelfth century. The earliest portion appears to be the great arches beneath the central tower, with their elaborate “double-cone” ornament, which is really a highly-developed variety of the twisted-cable sculpture, such as we have noticed on the base at Blyth.[8] The main arcades of the nave were then probably built westward as an abutment to these arches. The arcades are of seven bays up to the eastern piers of the towers. The arches have a curve of rather less than a semicircle: they are framed by a band of double-billet ornament beneath a small roll: they have a deep outer order with an edge-roll, and an inner order with two thick soffit rolls. They are divided by low and massive cylindrical columns, the capitals of which are cylinders of larger diameter, carved with scalloping and other ornament. This carving is incised, and little relief is given to the scalloping. The work of the triforium, clerestory, and aisles appears to have followed the building of the main arcades.[9] The triforium, as at Blyth, has a single bold opening in each bay. The moulding of the arches is very similar to that of the arches[24] below, but the outer band of ornament is richer. The piers dividing them are square in section, and are recessed with an angle shaft and soffit shaft, each with scalloped capitals to bear the orders of the arches. The inner faces of the arches and jambs towards the triforium passage are left unmoulded. The clerestory consists of a circular opening in each bay, framed on the outside by a continuous roll moulding. There is a barrel-vaulted clerestory passage, which opens towards the nave by a plain rounded arch with soffit shafts in each bay. No vaulting shafts were ever planned: the elevation of the nave externally is rather flat and plain, but a strong horizontal line is given by the triforium string, and the effect of light and shade caused by the clerestory openings is one of the most beautiful features of this noble church. It was originally intended to introduce sub-arches into the triforium openings, on the plan adopted at Romsey: the preparations for this subdivision remain, but it was never carried out.

The aisles are vaulted in quadripartite compartments, with massive diagonal ribs, square in section, with thick edge rolls, and a double bead on the soffit. The centre of the diagonals is considerably below their springing, with a fatal result to the artistic effect of their curve. No special provision is made for their reception either on the side of the main arcades or that of the aisle wall: their outward pressure, which is considerable, is met by shallow pilaster buttresses, which serve as thickening to the wall at the necessary points. The north porch, which has a solar or upper chamber, is barrel-vaulted. The rough rubble vault, denuded of its plaster covering, forms a strange contrast to the richness of the north doorway and the intersecting arcades of the side walls. Although, as already said, all this work, and the north porch most of all, belongs to an advanced period of the twelfth century, the actual plan, with the two rather slender western towers, may probably be assigned to the time when the rebuilding of the church was first projected by Norman builders. The two western[25] towers planned at Melbourne (probably after 1133) and Bakewell in Derbyshire, at once recall on plan the towers of Southwell, and are less likely to have suggested them than to have been suggested by them. There is little doubt that the two towers of Worksop priory church bear witness to the influence of Southwell, while the scheme of the elevation of the nave there was derived from Blyth and Southwell, and expressed in later terms.

The vaulted crypt which remains beneath the chancel of Newark church has been curtailed of its full proportions, but is a good example of the successful ribbed vaulting of a series of narrow oblong bays, the transverse arch between each bay being omitted, as in the alternate bays at Durham. Among the parish churches of the county there are few instances of unmixed Romanesque work of post-Conquest date. Littleborough and Sookholme are aisleless chapels with rectangular chancels, and to these the greater part of the fabric at Halam may be added. East and West Leake keep enough of their possibly eleventh-century structure to enable us to realise their original appearance; but both have undergone the process of the enlargement of the chancel and the addition of a south aisle, and at East Leake the tower is of the thirteenth century. Early towers with plain details, as at Laneham and Mansfield, are not uncommon: that at Plumtree is a case in which some slight architectural enrichment has been given to a simple design. Such towers, the unbuttressed construction of which, as at East Leake, survives into the thirteenth century, seem to be the work of local masons on whom the methods of the Norman builders have made comparatively little impression. On the other hand, the distinctive ornamentation of Norman churches has left its mark on chancel arches like those of Littleborough and Harworth, and on a considerable number of doorways. The carved tympana of the doorways of Hoveringham and Everton may be assigned to the early part of the twelfth century. The tympanum, now built into the west wall of the south transept at Southwell, is earlier[26] in date. Its rude and angular figure sculpture has been cited with some probability as Saxon, but has much in common with other late eleventh- and even twelfth-century sculpture, in which possible Scandinavian influence may be detected. Work of a similar school may be seen in the carved figures, representing nine of the months of the year, which have been built into the tower at Calverton: these seem to have been the carved voussoirs of the doorway of the eleventh-century church, of which the chancel arch remains. The influence of Yorkshire building on Nottinghamshire was always strong, and we cannot expect to find in the early work of the district the refined carving of the southern schools of masons. Among doorways of a later date, the south doorway and the outer doorway of the north porch at Balderton stand easily first: these have rich and deeply-cut bands of chevron ornamentation.[10]

South Scarle. Nave North Arcade.

Arcades of twelfth-century work are very few in number: there are no cases among the parish churches where both arcades are of this date. At Thoroton, South Collingham, and South Searle the north aisle was added before the transition to Gothic had thoroughly set in; and the two last examples are peculiarly instructive. In either case the arcade is of uncommon beauty. At South Collingham it is of distinctly late Romanesque character. The capitals are scalloped, the arches have heavy double soffit rolls, the outer order has a band of chevron both on the wall and soffit planes, and each arch has a hood of “nebule” ornament, which recalls the form of the corbel table of the nave at Southwell. Large grotesque heads occur at the junction of the hoods. The date of the work is certainly earlier than 1150. The north arcade at South Scarle belongs to the third quarter of the century. The arches are rounded and of two orders. The inner order is ornamented with bands [27]of deeply moulded lozenges, formed by opposed rows of chevrons, set both on the wall and soffit planes, the edge between the points of contact of the lozenges being left square. The outer order has a slender edge-roll: on both planes are bands of lozenges, longer and narrower than those of the inner order, with a roll moulding running through and bisecting each lozenge. The hoods are composed of a double band of chevron, arranged on both planes, the edge, as in the inner order, being left square. At the meeting of the hoods are heads. The adjacent outer orders intersect and are combined with rare skill. The column dividing the arches is cylindrical: the capital has a heavy square abacus with a long vertical hollow, and the bell has a simple band of deeply undercut foliage with angle crockets. The whole design could hardly be surpassed in any English parish church of the period. It is not fanciful to suggest that the carving of both planes throughout the arch and hood was inspired by the outer order at South Collingham, where the chevrons are arranged alternately, so as to interlock, and no straight edge is left. But the work at South Searle is of a superior delicacy of execution: in the arches the thick convex curves of Romanesque work give place to the graceful undercutting of Gothic sculpture, and in the foliage of the capitals Romanesque methods have been entirely left behind.

South Searle is, in fact, an early example of the transition which marks the end of the twelfth century. Other arcades of the period, belonging to the last quarter of the twelfth century, and showing sculptured foliage or figures, occur at Caunton and Attenborough. The date of the work at Attenborough, however, may be called in question, as it has features which indicate that it has been manipulated by clever sculptors of a much later era. Plain arcades with rounded arches, but otherwise Gothic in character, such as are common in Yorkshire, are those of Sturton-le-Steeple. The present writer, who has a clear recollection of the church as it was, saw it in its ruined state after the[28] fire of 1901, and has visited it since its reconstruction, can testify to the substantial accuracy with which the rebuilding has been carried out. An important piece of work was begun towards the end of the twelfth century at Newark, of which the evidence remains in the clustered piers, with plain capitals and square abaci, intended, with a rather inadequate sense of the weight to be laid on them, to support a central tower. The great achievement of transitional work in Nottinghamshire, however, was the nave of Worksop priory church, the date of which is about 1175. As has been said, the Worksop builders owed something to Southwell, and their design at once recalls, in its external appearance and proportions, that which had been used at Southwell. The details are much simplified, as may be seen by comparing the elevation of the Worksop with that of the Southwell towers; and the large bull’s-eye windows of the clerestory at Southwell are not repeated at Worksop. Internally, the proportions are those of Blyth and Southwell—the low arch on the ground-floor in each bay, the wide single opening of the triforium above, the low clerestory. From a structural point of view, there is no very great advance upon Southwell in lightness of construction. The columns, alternately cylindrical and octagonal, are still squat and massive: strength of walls is still the ruling principle with the builders. But the approach to Gothic work is shown in the growing delicacy of detail, in slenderness of undercut moulding, in the use of the pointed arch, where it is not necessitated by vaulting, and in the abandonment of intricate twelfth-century ornament for carefully sculptured mouldings and for the conventional variety of carved foliage.

The district near the Trent, in the wapentakes of Bassetlaw and Newark, provides a group of village churches which contain early thirteenth-century work of rare excellence. North Collingham, Marnham, Laneham, South Leverton, Beckingham, Misterton, and Hayton, are the members of this group. The treatment of the work is by no means[29] identical in all these cases. At Laneham the nave arches have simple mouldings of very early thirteenth-century type, cut in rectangular planes, and rest upon clustered columns, the shafts of which are engaged in a rather thick central shaft. The same treatment of arch-mouldings may be seen at Ordsall, near Retford. At North Collingham, South Leverton, and Marnham, sculptured foliage is employed in the capitals of the nave arcade. These three churches differ from each other in the design of their arches and columns, and the true parentage of North Collingham, a worthy neighbour to South Collingham, is not easy to decide. But the design of tail-shafted columns and foliated capitals at South Leverton seems to be closely allied to the early thirteenth-century work at St. Mary-le-Wigford and St. Peter-at-Gowts in Lincoln; while the low columns and graceful foliage at Marnham belong to the same family as much thirteenth-century architecture in and round Lincoln—St. Benedict’s at Lincoln, Nettleham, and Waddington, are cases in point. It is easy to understand that Lincoln may have had a great architectural influence on a church like South Leverton, which was one of the churches appropriated to the dean of Lincoln, and forming part of his “parsonage.”

The chapter of Lincoln, as has been said, possessed much property and several churches in Newark wapentake: the whole district, then, including churches, like Marnham,[11] which had no direct connection with Lincoln, might very well be brought within the sphere of the artistic influence of Lincoln. North Collingham, the advowson of which belonged to the abbey of Peterborough,[12] was well within the possible range of Lincoln influence. Misterton, on the other hand, lay outside the district to which Lincoln craftsmen[30] were most likely to resort. The church itself belonged to the dean and chapter of York, who possessed property all round it; while five churches in the neighbourhood, East Retford, Clarborough, Everton, Hayton, and Sutton-cum-Lound with Scrooby, belonged to the collegiate chapel of St. Mary and the Holy Angels at York. In later days, Yorkshire influence was paramount in the buildings of the district; the tower of Haxey in Lincolnshire, and the tower of Gainsborough, seem to have been built by masons of the Yorkshire school. It has been explained that the possession of a church by monastic or clerical owners did not imply that the impropriators would do much for the fabric; and the examples just cited show for how little, in an architectural estimate, the actual owners of the church may count. Save only Balderton and South Leverton, those churches, in the neighbourhood of the Trent, which belonged to the dean and chapter of Lincoln, are not remarkable for their beauty, or for any traces of the handiwork of Lincoln masons in them. But it might well happen that, in the case of South Leverton, Lincoln masons were employed, and their work might bear fruit in neighbouring parishes.

The work of Lincoln masons is certainly apparent in the tower of Newark church, begun during the second quarter of the thirteenth century. We have seen that this church was the property of the Gilbertine priory of St. Katherine without Lincoln. The canons of St. Katherine’s, however, would be under no obligation to supply the church with a tower. On the other hand, the bishop of Lincoln, as lord of Newark, would have a direct responsibility, and would probably be the largest contributor to the new work. What was more natural than that masons, whose methods had been learned at Lincoln, should be employed at Newark? As a matter of fact, the Lincoln influence is clearly declared, not only in the foliated capitals of the western doorway, but also in the “smocking” pattern which is used in the upper part of the thirteenth-century[31] work. This method of breaking up a flat surface, by a series of diagonal fillets crossing and recrossing each other, into a chequered surface of sunken lozenges, is a peculiar feature of the architectural work done at Lincoln minster in the times of Bishop Grosseteste (1235–54). It was employed again, with a little variation, towards the end of the century in the tower of Grantham, which owes much to the example of Newark.

The tower of Newark was the beginning of a great rebuilding, which gives us the most interesting development of plan in Nottinghamshire. It was planned, like most western towers, to stand free, on three sides, of the west end of the church. After the lowest stage had been built, however, arches were pierced in the north and south walls, so as to open into aisles extended westwards to a level with the west wall of the tower. This arrangement, as Sir Gilbert Scott suggested with much probability, may have been derived directly from Tickhill in south Yorkshire, where the tower was engaged within aisles at the close of the twelfth century. The plan had been used in Yorkshire at an earlier date.[13] There can be no question as to the influence of this arrangement at Newark upon the plan of the tower and aisles at Grantham some fifty years later. Grantham, however, completed its tower and spire within a few years of the conception of the borrowed design. Newark had to wait for the completion of its tower and spire until the fourteenth century; and the thirteenth-century lower stages, as we see them now, are an isolated fragment, crowned and flanked by work of a later period.

The three western bays, which are all that remain, of the priory church of Thurgarton, belong to the northern school of early Gothic. The detail is severely simple, and the somewhat heavy clustered piers recall those of the church of Great Grimsby in Lincolnshire, which bear a near relationship to the early thirteenth-century work at Hedon[32] in the East Riding. The west front and north tower are practically a translation into a more advanced type of Gothic of the west front and south tower of the late twelfth-century priory church of Malton. The work appears to belong to the first quarter of the thirteenth century: the buttresses of the tower are mere pilasters, finished off with gable heads above the belfry string. It is impossible to speak too warmly of the noble simplicity of the design, which is very moderate in elevation. A great west doorway, recessed in five orders, with shafted jambs, occupies nearly half the height of the west front. The upper half, which forms with its gable an equilateral triangle, is occupied by a row of lancets, decreasing in height from the centre on each side: the three central lancets are pierced. The north tower is divided by string courses into five stages: the lowest stage is again divided into two parts, the lower of which is pierced in the west face by another moulded and shafted doorway. Great ingenuity is shown in the care with which the surface of the tower and buttresses is broken up by blind arcades of lancets, which are applied at points where emphasis is really needed, and are not used indiscriminately. This is specially remarkable in the belfry stage, the centre of which in each face is occupied by two tall lancet openings. The unpierced wall on either side of these is divided into two halves by a bold string course; but, while the upper half is recessed with lancet niches, the lower half is left blank, and is broken only on the west face by the projection of the buttress gables. Probably no better instance could be found of the dignity and variety of interest which thirteenth-century builders contrived to create out of their stock of simple material. Every detail is taken carefully into account, but none is so accentuated as to lessen the harmony of the main design.

Southwell Minster. East End.

Southwell Minster. Capital in the Chapter House.

In the second quarter of the thirteenth century the old eastern arm of Southwell minster was taken down, and a new aisled quire and presbytery built upon lines closely akin to those of the churches of Augustinian canons. The [33]quire is of six bays. From the second bay from the east, in which the high altar probably stood, projects on each side a small transeptal chapel, with its roof on a level with that of the adjacent aisle. The eastern bay formed the ambulatory behind the altar; but the central body of the quire is prolonged beyond it for two bays eastwards as an aisleless chapel. The high altar is now against the east wall, but there can be no doubt as to the original arrangement. As at Thurgarton, the design is marked by great restraint in the matter of detail. The clustered columns, like those in the contemporary work done, during the archiepiscopate of Walter de Gray, at York and Beverley,[14] form an attached group around an inner core. Their capitals are simply moulded. The arches depend for their effect upon their mouldings, dog-tooth being used very sparingly in the hollows. The upper stage, in which clerestory and triforium are combined by the expedient of prolonging the inner arch of the clerestory to the triforium sill, and omitting the inner clerestory passage, is treated more richly. Dog-tooth is freely used in the ridge-rib of the vault; the jamb-shafts of the prolonged arches have foliated capitals; the capitals of the vaulting-shafts are foliated, and the shafts themselves rest on corbels of great beauty, carved with stiff-stalked leaf-work. This increased richness of the higher part of the composition gives balance to the design, which otherwise might be almost too plain. Taken as a whole, the composition is inferior to the transepts of York and the magnificent quire at Beverley. The two-storeyed division of the interior of the quire gives an effect of lowness, and the vault, with its strongly marked ridge-rib, seems to weigh too heavily on the building, which is rather broad in proportion to its height. The arrangement of two tiers of four lancets, one above the other, at the east end, is in keeping with the over-weighted impression given by the whole elevation. At the same time, there cannot be two opinions as to the[34] picturesqueness of the design; for what is lost in height and dignity is gained in the contrast of light and shade in the triforium and clerestory stage. The vault, continued at one level through the quire and eastern chapel, is of eight bays. Of these seven are quadripartite, with a ridge-rib added. The eighth is, by an unusual arrangement, quinquepartite: the upper tier of four lancets at the east end is arranged in two pairs, between which a small shaft, with a prominent foliated capital, carries an arched rib at right angles to the east wall. This is brought up to the central boss of the vaulting compartment, where it meets the ridge-rib.[15] Externally, the lowness of elevation is less striking, and the striking projection of the tall buttresses of the eastern chapel, with their gabled heads, adds a vigour to the general outline which is missed in the interior of the building. The original pitch of the outer roof has been lowered, however, so that the complete effect is somewhat impaired.

The south chapel of the quire of Worksop priory church, the building of which was almost contemporary with the thirteenth-century work at Southwell, is a melancholy ruin; but its remains are still enough to show the beauty which may be produced by the effective combination of simple lancet forms. It may be said with some confidence that the thirteenth-century builders at Southwell, Thurgarton, and Worksop, and of the high vault which was added during this period to the nave at Blyth, belonged to a school which had learned its traditions in the beginning from the Cistercian architecture of Yorkshire. Economy of ornament, variety in the use of simple forms, contrast of light with shade conveyed by the alternation of bold convex and deep hollow mouldings, are the characteristics of the twelfth- and thirteenth-century work in churches like Byland, Fountains, and Roche. From these the builders of the great churches of Beverley, Ripon, and Southwell, the matrices ecclesiæ of the East and West Ridings and of Nottinghamshire, learned[35] their art; and the example of these, little touched by the influence of the south-eastern builders, which appears at Lincoln, or of the western builders, which makes itself felt at Lichfield, is manifest in the larger churches within their neighbourhood.[16]

The ruined priory church of Newstead, on the other hand, which belongs to the second half of the thirteenth century, has few characteristics limiting it to the work of a special school. The great west window, which has lost its tracery, and the traceried panels of the west front, are symptoms of a general architectural movement peculiar to no one district. From Binham in the east, and Salisbury in the south, to Croyland, Lincoln, and Grantham in the eastern midlands, and to St. Mary’s at York and Guisbrough priory in the north, single lancet openings gave place to combinations of several lights in one window, with tracery consisting of one or more cusped circles between them and the enclosing arch. A study of the chronology of these buildings leads to the conclusion that this development of art made its way northward. The west front at Newstead forms a half-way house, as it were, between the west front at Croyland and Abbot Warwick’s work at St. Mary’s, York. The likeness of the tracery in the flanking portions of the design at Newstead to that in the windows of the south aisle at Grantham church is very noticeable. The date of the work at Grantham is about 1280.[17]

Newstead takes an honourable place among the greater achievements of the so-called geometrical period. The south aisle of Blyth priory church, which is probably not later than 1290, and was added to give more accommodation to the parochial services, is a good example of the simple and[36] well-proportioned work of an epoch, which, in spite of the epithet of “Decorated” so often applied to it, produced some of the plainest and most sober work of the middle ages. The tracery of the windows, formed by the simple intersection of the mullions, is a special, though not exclusive, characteristic of English midland work, common in the windows of Leicestershire and Derbyshire churches. At Stapleford, close to the Derbyshire border of our county, there is a good window of this type. Nearly contemporary with the south aisle of Blyth, is the greater part of the fine church of Gedling. Here the chancel seems to have been rebuilt during the third quarter of the thirteenth century, the nave following after a short interval. The whole church, with the exception of the tower and spire, was probably finished by 1294, in which year Archbishop Romeyn consecrated here a bishop to his suffragan see of Whithorn in Galloway.[18] The tracery of the nave windows is of a simple geometrical character; but the place of the cusped and heavily-moulded circle is taken by the more angular forms and thinner stonework which mark the transition to the developed art of the fourteenth century. Otherwise, the detail of the work is plain, and the aim of the builders was evidently spaciousness of design before anything else. More decorative ambition is shown in the sculptured capitals of the nave at Bingham, in which the tendency to naturalistic treatment of foliage is very noticeable. The tower and spire of Bingham are among the principal achievements of Nottinghamshire masons at this period. There is some conservatism of feeling about the design. Bingham is near the district which was the early home of the broach spire, and it was long before, in that district, old traditions died out. The stepped buttresses, the double geometrical windows in the belfry stage, and the not more than adequately lofty spire, with its many lights, set upon a proportionately sturdy tower, are the[37] leading features of this beautiful composition.[19] The tower at Thurgarton must have supplied Nottinghamshire builders with a first-rate lesson in design, and its influence may have been felt at Bingham. It was certainly felt in the thirteenth-century central tower of Langar—one of the few cruciform churches in Nottinghamshire—not far from Bingham; and this tower may have inspired the builders at Bingham with their ambition. It may be added, however, that these fine models were not generally followed in the county. Apart from Newark, which can hardly be considered from a merely local point of view, and West Retford, the most remarkable example—later than Bingham—of spire design in the county is at Thoroton. Other spires, such as Cotgrave, East Leake, and St. Peter’s at Nottingham, approximate to the very plain type of tall spire on a parapeted tower which is found so constantly, as at Sawley, Duffield, and Morley, in the adjoining county of Derbyshire. Bingham and Thoroton, on the other hand, are within easy call of the fine and elaborate spires of south Lincolnshire and Leicestershire. Another chapter in this volume deals with the spires of the county in detail.

One church upon the Lincolnshire frontier deserves special mention at this point. This is Barnby-in-the-Willows, on the left bank of the Witham. Here a general rebuilding took place about 1300; and the task was evidently entrusted to a master of the works whose ideas of decorative design were all his own. In plan and construction he had nothing radical to offer, but, when he came to his windows, he used his geometrical tracery in defiance of all recognised canons, inserting pieces of tracery at the bottom or in the middle of his lights, instead of at the top of the window. This remarkable experiment, which, owing to the remote situation of the church, has attracted little attention, deserves full illustration and[38] detailed description, which it is impossible to give in the present article. The great architectural successes of the neighbourhood, the nave of Claypole, and the aisles of Beckingham and Brant Broughton, were yet to come; but, unless we postulate a village genius reared in absolute isolation, it is hardly likely that the designer of the windows at Barnby was wholly ignorant of the magnificent work already accomplished within no great distance of his village at Lincoln and Grantham. These would be his nearest models for tracery at the time, and we may perhaps assume either that he saw them with an admiring, but careless and inaccurate eye, or that, having seen them, he gave rein to a personal eccentricity which hoped for improvement in a reversal of their principles. In any case, the design is of peculiar interest, and the chancel at Barnby is in some degree a forerunner of the splendid series to which reference will be made presently.

The chief stimulus to local art in the early fourteenth century came from the chapter house at Southwell. This unique masterpiece was in process of construction about 1290, when John le Romeyn, who laid the foundation stone of the nave at York in 1291, was archbishop. It was closely modelled upon the chapter house at York, the fabric of which was certainly completed about the time (1286) when Romeyn took possession of the see. Both chapter houses have the same octagonal plan without a central pillar; but, while the vast chapter house at York was never covered with any but a wooden roof, the less ambitious structure at Southwell has a stone ceiling vaulted up to a central boss. Neither the tracery of the windows nor the details of the mouldings are much advanced for their period: the first is composed of cusped circles, while in the second filleted rolls predominate, in alternation with deep hollows. In the delicate sculpture, however, of the entrance doorway, the pediments of the niches for seats which surround the inner walls, and the capitals of the shafts which divide the niches from one another and bear[39] their arches, we have the most remarkable achievement of the age. This carving was probably the work of years, and can hardly have been begun until the bulk of the fabric was completed. The leading feature of the work is its naturalistic treatment, which is in striking contrast to the conventional lines of the window tracery. One or two capitals occur, in which the sculptor allowed himself to use the conventional foliage of a generation earlier, and leaves which merely suggest natural forms grow, as in the smaller capitals of the quire and of the vestibule which leads to the chapter house, from stiff stalks. Such foliage has the advantage of seeming to take its life from the stonework in which its stalks are rooted. But, apart from these isolated instances, the sculptors have entirely modelled their work upon natural forms. Sprays cut from the hedges have, under their hands, been translated into stone, and wreathed round capitals, spread out on flat surfaces, or turned in garlands to fill hollow mouldings. No trouble has been spared to reproduce natural forms exactly: leaves are ridged and veined as in nature, and, even where they are most thickly clustered, they are everywhere undercut, and beneath them the concealed stems may be discovered. The delight of the sculptors in their work is obvious, and their never-flagging invention and labour converted a daring tour de force into a triumphant success.

Only this once, however, did English carvers apply themselves to the naturalistic treatment of stonework with a care for detail in which they may fairly be said to rival the conventional sculptors of the thirteenth century. Stonework does not lend itself readily to this purely imitative handling. The artist is bound by the limitations of an art which, to approach most nearly to nature, demands an independent life of its own. An impartial comparison between the carvings of the quire and chapter house must lead to the conclusion that the smaller capitals and corbels in the quire have greater life and vigour. The sculpture in the chapter house is decoration applied to architecture:[40] the sculpture of the quire is part and parcel of the architecture which surrounds it. The effort which is maintained in the chapter house cannot be kept up. The interval of naturalism can only lead to a new kind of convention, in which the carvers seek to give a naturalistic effect to the surface of their work, without going to the full pains of realistic imitation. This can be seen in the carvings of the eastern side of the stone pulpitum which separates the nave from the quire, and is almost the latest of the structural additions to this interesting church, as it has come down to us. The central archway in the eastern face, and the canopies of the stalls on either side, are of the ogee shape, which came into fashion in the early part of the fourteenth century: the ogee also prevails in the cusping. The mouldings are convex without intermediate hollows. The foliage and diaper work, still beautiful and impressive in their richness, even now that their early glory of gilding and colour is gone, become crowded and indistinct, a mere collection of undulations, when examined close at hand. The small figure sculpture, and the heads which form the finials to the cusping, are still full of life. But even the figure sculpture of the age is seen, when we turn from the screen to the sedilia on the south side of the eastern chapel, to lose in strength and distinctness, and to aim at producing a distant effect, which is not enhanced by close inspection.

This phase of sculpture at Southwell at once recalls the work of the same epoch in the Lady chapels of Ely and Lichfield, and the altar-screen and Percy tomb at Beverley. It is the belief of the present writer, founded upon a long and close study of fourteenth-century work in the north and midlands of England, that the turning-point of the art of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, so far as these parts of England are concerned, was reached at York, where St. Mary’s abbey church represents the crowning achievements of “geometrical” work, and the nave of the minster marks the first decisive step in the direction of naturalistic sculpture, and greater freedom in the lines of window[41] tracery. The influence of the York chapter house is clearly felt at Southwell, and the Southwell sculptors worked in harmony with the masons who, under the patronage of Archbishop Romeyn, were employed on the nave at York. In their more modest area, they even surpassed their York contemporaries. Putting buildings like Howden and the eastern bays of Ripon aside for our present purposes, it seems clear that the first step of the York school southward was made at Southwell. The close connection of Bishop Walter Langton (1296–1321) with York[20] explains the appearance of what may fairly be called the York manner in the eastern part of Lichfield Cathedral. That the influence of work so splendid and distinguished should spread into other dioceses is only likely, and it seems very likely that, in the second quarter of the fourteenth century, it was felt as far south as the Lady chapel at Ely, and far and wide throughout the fens. Here other influences from the south doubtless met it, which had been at work for some time in Essex and East Anglia. But the community of style between such churches as Ely and Beverley, or Patrington in Yorkshire and Claypole in Lincolnshire, at this period, seems to be due to an activity which spread in the beginning from York.

In this dissemination of style, the southern part of the diocese of York, which wedged its way in between the dioceses of Lincoln and Lichfield, seems to have acted as a principal reservoir. The chancels of Hawton, Sibthorpe, Car Colston, and Woodborough, with those, now mutilated or destroyed, of Arnold and Epperstone, formed a band which stretched nearly across the county, between Newark and Nottingham. Their general characteristics are carefully dressed stonework, profusely moulded base-courses, gabled buttresses of bold projection, and admirably[42] proportioned windows, with curvilinear or reticulated tracery. Externally, ornament is used with great restraint, and almost the whole emphasis of the design is laid upon the spacing of the bays, and the clean and finished treatment of parapets, buttresses, and base-courses. The tracery of the side windows is usually simple, but the east window is generally of five lights, and is treated with more elaboration. Internally, the chief feature, apart from spaciousness of proportion, is the magnificent permanent stone furniture. Triple sedilia, with a piscina to match, all adorned with crocketing and figure carving of the same type as that of the sedilia at Southwell, are a general possession of these fabrics. A founder’s tomb in the north wall of the chancel, and niches for statues in the east wall on either side of the altar, are also common. Hawton, however, has, in addition to sedilia with a wealth of carving on the wall-surface between their canopies, piscina, and founder’s tomb, a large permanent Easter sepulchre in the north wall of the chancel. At Sibthorpe there is a small Easter sepulchre, with a row of carved figures of the soldiers sleeping at the tomb, in the wall above the recess for the founder’s effigy. There are remains of a similar sepulchre at Fledborough, and a large and handsome, but much mutilated, sepulchre has been left in the rebuilt church of Arnold.

Barnby in the Willows.

(South Side of the Chancel.)

Car Colston.

The actual date of these chancels is not very easy to fix. It is clear that Car Colston, the least elaborate, though one of the most spacious of the series, must have been rebuilt some years before the appropriation of the church to Worksop priory in 1349.[21] The chancel of Sibthorpe, similarly, may not be much later than 1324, when we first read of the chantry which was gradually enlarged into a college of chantry priests, and was celebrated in a chapel north [43]of the chancel.[22] At the same time, the college was not founded until 1340, and the founder, Thomas Sibthorpe, endowed a chantry and lights in the church of Beckingham, Lincolnshire, of which he was rector, in 1347, when the aisles of Beckingham church were rebuilt.[23] The character of the dated work at Beckingham is so like that at Sibthorpe as to forbid our assigning too early a date to the latter. A chantry was founded at Fledborough in 1343,[24] which seems to imply that the fine fourteenth-century church which we now see had recently been rebuilt. The Easter sepulchres at Fledborough and Sibthorpe have, as already noted, much in common. If these comparatively late dates be admitted, the date of 1356, which has been given to the chancel at Woodborough, is just possible. At the same time, the design of Woodborough forcibly suggests that it was built before the great plague of 1349, which worked such havoc throughout the country and effected such a change in English art. The founder of the chancel at Hawton died in 1330. The tracery of the east window and the character of much of the carving is in general keeping with this date. But the chancel was probably built in the founder’s lifetime, just as the noble chancel at Heckington, near Sleaford, was undoubtedly built some years before the founder’s death in 1345.[25] In two points especially, the mouldings of the founder’s tomb, which are of the first quarter of the fourteenth century, and the group of figures relieved against the wall at the back of the sepulchre, there is reason to antedate the fabric of Hawton to a date nearer 1320 than 1330. The figure sculpture in question is fully equal, in[44] naturalistic treatment, to any of the carving in the chapter house at Southwell; while the rest of the sculpture of the sepulchre and sedilia is closely allied to the sculpture of the Southwell pulpitum. In any case, we have in these chancels a group of buildings which extend over a period between about 1320 and the plague of 1349, and the architectural influence which inspired them may be traced directly to Southwell, and so to York.

Hawton, and the allied Lincolnshire chancels of Heckington and Navenby, were probably the first-fruits of the influence of Southwell upon local architecture. The sculpture in these three cases is of a more delicate and carefully worked type than that of the other churches mentioned. It is a significant fact that, if we look for the closest parallels to Sibthorpe, Woodborough, and Car Colston, we find them in churches which lie north of York—Patrick Brompton, Kirkby Wiske, and Ainderby Steeple. One of these, Patrick Brompton, the best of the series, belonged to St. Mary’s abbey at York, and appears to have been built in the decade between 1320 and 1330.[26] It is impossible to visit these churches without recognising the complete identity of type between the Yorkshire and Nottinghamshire examples, or realising the close link which binds them together. As has been said, the influence of Yorkshire masoncraft found its way into the diocese of Lichfield. At Sandiacre and Dronfield in Derbyshire this type of chancel appears once more: it may be recognised at Checkley in Staffordshire and Norbury in Derbyshire, and even more clearly in the distant church of Halsall in south Lancashire. An isolated instance occurs in the old diocese of Lincoln, at Cotterstock in Northamptonshire: the founder of the rebuilt chancel here in 1337 was John Giffard, a canon of York, who was beneficed at Barnby-on-Don, near Doncaster.[27] The geographical distribution of these monuments, taken in[45] conjunction with their history, is overwhelmingly in favour of their northern origin, as against any influence from southern schools.

Newark church, were it not for the disaster of the Black Death, would probably be the finest of all fourteenth-century churches in Nottinghamshire. Its present plan, a vast aisled rectangle, was conceived in the early part of the fourteenth century, and the lower courses of the outer walls were built as far as the top of the moulded plinth.[28] Only the outer walls of the south aisle, however, and the tower and spire above the already completed thirteenth-century work, were finished. The north aisle, and the lofty arcades and clerestory of the nave were not achieved until the second quarter of the fifteenth century, while it was not until the last quarter that the chancel with its aisles was completed, and the old chancel was finally removed. Later still the plan received its final addition by the building of the north and south transeptal chapels. All this work has the fine sense of design and sketchiness of detail which are the chief symptoms of late Gothic work in England: the dependence of the effect of such a building on stained glass, colour, and furniture is absolute. Fragments only of the glass remain, and the colour is gone; but the late fifteenth-century rood-screen, which has few rivals in the country, and two stone chantry chapels, one on each side of the altar, still remain to give us some idea of the former dignity and beauty of this great town church. The spire and upper portion of the tower were suggested by the completed work at Grantham. Although they yield the palm in height to Grantham, and the spire is inferior to Grantham spire in beauty, yet the design of the belfry stage, with a prominent crocketed pediment above the two lights in each face, is at any rate comparable to the treatment of the similar stage at Grantham. While the Grantham builders were[46] uncertain about their design, and apparently altered it as they got higher, the Newark builders knew exactly what they wanted, and were content with a plan which, if more modest, is more homogeneous.

Of the work of the fifteenth century in Nottinghamshire, St. Mary’s at Nottingham, which is almost entirely of one period, is the crowning example. The rebuilding of this fine church was achieved during the second and third quarters of the century. The architectural detail, apart from that of the south porch, which was probably built when the aisles were set out, as a beginning to the work, is somewhat hard and formal; but the characteristic skill of the age in design is everywhere present. The aisles were set out in six bays, divided by buttresses, each bay containing two windows of three lights each. In the west walls of the aisles are two windows of four lights each, with a doorway beneath each pair; the south doorway and porch are in the third bay from the east. Inside the church a very marked string-course, with hollowed underside, forms a continuous sill to the windows, which are framed within rectangular panels, formed by shafts projecting from the wall near the outer edge of the moulded window recesses. These shafts are continued through and below the string-course to tall bases resting on a plain bench-table, so that the wall below the windows is formed into a second series of panels. A similar framing is applied to the arches of the nave and windows of the clerestory and to the clerestoried transepts, of which the upper portions are contemporary with the arcade and west wall of the nave, and were not added until the aisles had been completed.[29] The treatment of the chancel, although in general keeping with the rest of the work, is much plainer: here, as elsewhere, the monastic impropriators, the prior and convent of Lenton, felt no desire to emulate the expense to[47] which the lay parishioners committed themselves in the nave and transepts. The cruciform plan, which was employed at St. Mary’s, is uncommon in Nottinghamshire; and it may be mentioned that in one originally cruciform plan which remains, that of Whatton, the transepts have been absorbed within the aisles by the not uncommon method of widening the aisles to the extent of the projection of the transepts. At St. Mary’s, the fine effect of the tall central tower and long transepts is very noticeable from outside. Internally, the need of aisles, both to transepts and chancel, is much felt; and, although the whole design is actually more interesting than the work at Newark, it has not the same grace or spaciousness.

Most of the churches of the county have some remains of fifteenth-century work. Here, as elsewhere, towers were built or heightened, and clerestories were added to earlier naves. The best work of this date, on the whole, is found in the north-east part of the county. East Markham church was entirely rebuilt about the middle of the century, and few churches are better examples of the excellent proportions of “Perpendicular” work. The chancel of Tuxford church, rebuilt in the last quarter of the century, and the elaborate clerestory at Laxton, added much beauty and dignity to plain fabrics of an earlier date. For combined beauty and simplicity, one of the most attractive buildings in the county is the little church of Holme, near Newark, rebuilt, with a south aisle to the nave and chapel to the chancel and a handsome south porch with a solar or upper chamber, towards the end of the century. This church fortunately keeps some of its old furniture and stained glass, and, although the inner face of its walls has been subjected to the process of scraping, it has otherwise been little spoiled. Here, as at Tuxford and in most of the late fifteenth-century work of the county, the windows have depressed heads, which practically form an obtuse angle, and prominent hood-mouldings; while the arch leading into the porch is four-centred. The row of seven shields of arms above the[48] doorway of the porch gives some richness of effect to a design otherwise unpretentious.

The large number of chantries founded in Nottinghamshire were the cause of the enlargement of many fabrics. This was certainly the case at Newark, where several chantries were endowed during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries.[30] The majority of such foundations in the county belong to a comparatively early date, and the effect which they had on the plan is seen chiefly in the enlargement of the aisles. Chantry chapels which form an excrescence from the fabric are rare. The north chancel chapel at Sibthorpe, which has now disappeared, and the chapel at Willoughby-on-the-Wolds, are examples of such additions in the fourteenth century.[31] At Southwell the chantry chapel founded by Archbishop Lawrence Booth, in which stood the altar of St. William and St. Cuthbert,[32] projected from the wall of the south aisle. It was built upon the enlarged site of an earlier chapel: it was unfortunately destroyed in 1784. The foundation of a small college of chantry priests (1476) in the cruciform church of Clifton-on-Trent[33] led to the enlargement of the church and partial rebuilding of the chancel. The enlargement of Holme church, which took place in or a little before 1490, was due to the desire of the founder, John Barton, to establish a chantry there.[34] This chantry, if actually founded, was no longer in existence at the time of the suppression of the chantries. The south chapel at Wollaton was built for the accommodation of the[49] service called Willoughby’s chantry, founded at the end of 1470.[35] But, as a rule, the foundation of chantries was followed by little variation of the normal plan. Thus, at Tuxford, where Sir John de Longvilliers had contemplated the foundation of a college of chantry priests in the middle of the fourteenth century, and actually endowed three chaplains,[36] the plan consists of the long chancel, built by the impropriating priory of Newstead in 1495, a north chapel, a nave with north and south aisles, south porch, and western tower. At Ratcliffe-on-Soar there is also a large north chapel to the chancel.[37] The normal plan, however, of the Nottinghamshire parish church is that of a chancel without chapels, aisled nave, western tower, and south porch. East Markham is an excellent instance of this design.

Monuments of lords of the manor and founders of chantries are a very characteristic feature, which add to the architectural beauty of Nottinghamshire churches. The series of three monuments, two of the thirteenth and one of the early fourteenth century, at West Leake are remarkable: the monument of a lady on the north of the altar is almost unexcelled for beauty among effigies of the date. The late thirteenth-century table-tomb of one of the Lexingtons and the effigies (one wooden) of the Everinghams at Laxton, and the fine series of fourteenth-century tombs at Whatton deserve special mention; while at Willoughby-on-the-Wolds is a series of effigies from the thirteenth to the middle of the fifteenth century. Reference has been made to the architectural beauty of the founders’ tombs at Hawton and Sibthorpe. But the finest monuments of all are those of the late fourteenth and fifteenth century, when Nottingham was the centre of the alabaster industry, and the work of its craftsmen was known far and wide[50] through England. Of the monuments already mentioned, one or more at West Leake, Laxton, and Whatton are of alabaster. Holme Pierrepont and Staunton, among other places, supply good examples. The beautiful table-tomb at Wollaton, between the chancel and the south chapel, is one of the best. But, for its architectural effect, the most striking of all the series is the late fourteenth-century table-tomb in the middle of the chancel at Strelley. This, combined with the other tombs of the chancel and the very handsome rood-screen, gives great impressiveness to the interior of a lofty and well-designed, but plain, building.

More definitely architectural than these monuments is the gorgeous canopied chantry chapel, which a member of the Babington family built for himself between the chancel and south chapel at Kingston-on-Soar. The chancel and south chapel, which has a shallow half-hexagonal bay for an altar in its east wall, were rebuilt in 1538: the date is carved on the outside of the church, where shields of arms in rectangular panels are inserted in the wall. The chantry chapel is a rectangular erection, like those at Newark or the La Warre chapel at Boxgrove, standing within the arch south of the chancel, and has a stone canopy, elaborately vaulted, resting on four columns at the angles. The space between its foot and the west side of the arch is bridged by a depressed archway, forming an entrance into the south chapel, with an attic and pediment above. No tomb or altar remains within the chantry chapel. The design is rather heavy, and the broad octagonal capitals of the angle columns are distinctly clumsy. Every inch of the structure is covered with sculpture, some of which is coarse and inferior; but the “babe in tun,” the rebus of the Babingtons, is repeated in the hollow mouldings of arches and capitals with a wonderful amount of variety and liveliness, and there is a very delicate, although crowded, carving of the Doom on the east wall. The sculpture may fairly be compared with that of the screen of the Kirkham chapel at Paignton in Devon, which is rather earlier in[51] date, and of the almost contemporary chapel of Bishop West at Ely. The hexagonal coffering of the columns suggests that the designer had seen the cast-metal screen of Henry VII.’s tomb at Westminster, and wished to reproduce it in stone. The archway west of the chapel has mouldings and other features of an unmistakably Renaissance type. A step further towards the Renaissance is taken in the tomb of Henry Sacheverell (d. 1558) in the neighbouring church of Ratcliffe-on-Soar, where there are rough Italianesque reliefs on the pilasters at the angles of the monument: the tomb of his father, Ralph Sacheverell (d. 1539) is, on the other hand, Gothic in all but the lettering.

The period after the Reformation is not within the province of this chapter; but a word may be added as to the survival of Gothic work after the civil war at St. Nicholas in Nottingham, and in the well-designed central tower at East Retford, and to the beautiful modern churches, in which the spirit of medieval Gothic architecture is so well maintained, designed by Mr. G. F. Bodley, at St. Alban’s in Sneinton, and at Clumber. Something, however, remains yet to be said of towers and spires. Of spires later than those that have been mentioned, the best is at West Retford, where the flying buttresses seem to indicate a Lincolnshire origin for the design. Scrooby, Weston, and Tuxford, in the same part of the county, and Edwinstowe, further west, have good spires. In the district round Nottingham, spires, where they occur, are, as already has been said, very plain. The unusually lofty tower and spire at the north-west corner of Gedling church, however, would call for honourable mention in any part of England. The tower and spire of Attenborough are also an excellent composition. The massive and heavily buttressed tower at Keyworth is crowned by a stone octagon rising from a square base, and surmounted by a small spire, and is engaged within aisles, which are not continued the full length of the nave eastwards: the elevation and plan are altogether exceptional. Of fifteenth-century towers, a large number, especially in[52] the north of the county, are of the ordinary type found in south Yorkshire—e.g. at Silkstone, South Kirkby, or Fishlake. The details are plain, there is a single window of two lights in each face of the belfry-stage, and a battlemented parapet with slender pinnacles at the angles. Such towers are found at Blyth, where the elaborate parapet was clearly suggested by that of the neighbouring church of Tickhill, and at Mattersey, East Markham, Saundby, Bole, Gamston, West Drayton, and several other places: the type occurs as far south as Hickling. At Carlton-in-Lindrick a belfry-stage and buttresses were added to an eleventh-century unbuttressed tower. Sturton-le-Steeple owes the latter part of its name to the far-seen array of twelve pinnacles with which the builders thought fit to surround the parapet. The tower of Dunham-on-Trent has a very lofty belfry-stage, pierced with enormous windows of three lights, with different tracery in each face—a design as unique in its way as the chancel at Barnby. Near Newark a different type of tower comes into use about 1480. This has double window openings in the belfry-stage, with depressed heads and prominent hoods: the string-courses are more in number and project more boldly, and the pinnacles of the parapet are less thin in design. Hawton is the best example of this type, which has more architectural ambition than the other: it is also found at Rolleston, and across the Lincolnshire border at Beckingham and in the upper stage of Hough-on-the-Hill. South Muskham, more massive and earlier in date than Hawton and Rolleston, belongs to the same family. Upton, near Southwell, has a small fifteenth-century tower, in the centre of which is a solid stone pinnacle or spirelet. Other towers, such as Sibthorpe, Woodborough, or Linby, of various dates and designs, are merely serviceable bell-towers of no special architectural merit. For gracefulness of design, no Nottinghamshire tower of the later Gothic period appeals to the present writer so much as that of Car Colston, with its long and slender belfry-openings. Indeed, the whole church,[53] with its thirteenth-century south doorway and its beautiful fourteenth-century chancel, is pre-eminently one of those buildings in which, as Dr. Whitaker said of Patrick Brompton in Yorkshire, “the antiquary may happily waste an hour”; and, in its peaceful seclusion at the head of one of the prettiest village greens in England, is the appropriate last resting-place of the historian of the county, Robert Thoroton.

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## NEWSTEAD PRIORY AND THE RELIGIOUS HOUSES OF NOTTINGHAMSHIRE
By Rev. J. Charles Cox, LL.D., F.S.A.

The county of Nottingham, considering its limited area, was rich in old religious foundations. Almost every variety of mediaeval monasticism was found within its bounds. There were Benedictine monks at Blyth, and Benedictine nuns had a small house at Wallingwells. Those reformed Benedictines, known as Cluniacs and Cistercians, were each represented in this county—the former at the important priory of Lenton, and the latter at the abbey of Rufford. The Carthusians, the most rigorous order of all the monks, had a house of some note at Beauvale. The Black or Austin Canons had five priories, of varied importance, at Felley, Newstead, Shelford, Thurgarton, and Worksop. The White or Premonstratensian Canons had a large and important abbey at Welbeck; whilst at Broadholme was one of the only two English nunneries pertaining to this order. The Gilbertine Canons were also represented at the priory of Mattersey. The Knights Hospitallers had a preceptory at Ossington, and they also held other property which they inherited from the dissolved Templars.

As to the friars, it is not a little singular that so powerful an order as the preaching Dominicans had no house in the county; they had, however, friaries near at hand in the counties of Derby, Leicester, and Lincoln. The county town, however, had settlements of both Franciscan and Carmelite friars, whilst there was an establishment of Observants or reformed Franciscans at Newark.

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The colleges or collegiate churches, wherein a company of priests led a more or less regulated common life, were six in number—namely, the great collegiate church of Secular Canons, probably based on an earlier monastic foundation, at Southwell, and five later congregations of chantry priests at Clifton, Newark, Ruddington, Sibthorpe, and Tuxford.

The hospitals or almshouses of mediaeval foundation, under a more or less definite religious rule, numbered thirteen—namely, five at the county town, two at Blyth, and one each at Bawtry, Bradebusk, Lenton, Newark, Southwell, and Stoke. In Nottinghamshire, as indeed throughout the greater part of England, the story of the old hospitals is a gloomy record of peculation by the masters or wardens of funds intended by the founders for the relief of the sick and needy, so that the seizing of their funds, as planned by Henry VIII. and carried out by Edward VI., did but little harm to God’s poor. In this county, too, the exceptionally large proportion of three of these houses managed to survive the cruelly avaricious storm of the sixteenth century—namely, Bawtry, Newark, and Plumptre (Nottingham); they are still doing good work.

Although it is proper to include the mediaeval colleges and hospitals under the head of religious houses, the description of them in this short survey would too much curtail the limited space that can be allotted to the more important foundations. It is much to be desired that some one with the necessary ability and leisure would undertake a Nottinghamshire Monasticon on a thorough scale, so rich and abundant is the material ready to hand for those who know where to look for it. In fact, several of the houses, notably Lenton, Newstead, Welbeck, Blyth, and Beauvale—notwithstanding all that has been written of them—might readily be treated in monographs on no meagre scale.

In order to find room for these brief historical sketches, it has also been necessary to omit any reference to existing monastic remains. In the majority of cases there are no traces left above ground of any of the Nottinghamshire[56] houses, but to this rule Newstead Priory is an extensive and distinguished exception, whilst certain parts of the Beauvale Charterhouse still standing are of importance and interest.

A few general remarks may be permitted before proceeding to the more particular but very brief discussion of each house.

In Nottinghamshire there is an exceptional amount of general interest pertaining to the history and development of several of the monasteries. Thus Blyth Priory, in addition to the difficult problems involved under its rule between the foreign abbot in Normandy and its diocesan the Archbishop of York, had a direct influence on the trade of Nottinghamshire and south Yorkshire by reason of the considerable tolls that it was enabled to levy on all merchandise passing through Blyth, either by road or water. Again, the great semi-foreign Cluniac priory of Lenton entirely overshadowed the town of Nottingham in matters spiritual, and to some extent in matters temporal, after the like fashion that the Cluniac priory of St. Andrew overshadowed the town of Northampton.

Various picturesque incidents telling of the wildness of the districts on the border of Sherwood Forest pertain to the story of Welbeck Abbey, the greatest of the Premonstratensian houses, towards the end of its life; whilst the special position and privileges of the houses of Newstead and Rufford, within the centre of the same forest, are briefly mentioned in another article in this volume.

Much can be gleaned as to the condition of the monasteries of Nottinghamshire from time to time from the various visitations recorded of the houses subject to diocesan control, as well as those made by special visitors of exempt Orders, such as those of Cluni and Prémontré. In these sketches nothing of the nature of evil or careless living that is brought to light is omitted; but the noteworthy smallness of the number of grave charges, as compared with the number of the inmates, and of the great frequency of visitations[57] wherein no laxity was discovered, cannot fail to bring every honourable and competent judge to the twofold conclusion that (1) the life and work of the great majority of the Nottinghamshire “religious” were distinctly praiseworthy and in accordance with their vows, and (2) that there was a persistent determination on the part of those in authority to deal sternly with careless or criminal living. To pass judgment on a whole class, because of the sins or laxity occasionally detected among an insignificant minority, is as malicious and absurd in connection with England’s vowed religious of the past, as it would be to do the like with England’s clergy of the present day.

As to the slanderous Comperta, or abbreviated charges of Legh and Layton (men themselves of infamous life), Cromwell’s notorious visitors of 1536, their amazing accusations against the religious of this county are at once confuted by a study of the subsequent pension lists. Take a single instance, the charges against Abbot Doncaster of Rufford were of an appalling character; nevertheless, within a few months of this report being presented, the abbot received a pension of £25, which was, however, very speedily withdrawn in favour of his appointment by the Crown to the important living of Rotherham. Or again, in the cases of Welbeck and Worksop, the foul-minded visitors singled out four of each house as guilty of peculiarly vile offences, and yet seven of them were pensioned and the eighth retained in a vicarage. Supposing for a moment that the black lists of the Comperta were true, which no one worthy of the name of historian now ventures to contend, the action of the granters of pensions and preferments was worse than that of the accused.

As there are still one or two writers who persist in trying to make their readers believe in the generally foul life of the old monks and nuns, with a malignant and ignorant persistency, it may be well to point out that a second commission was sent out by the Crown in 1536, consisting of State officials and leading gentlemen of each[58] county visited. Their elaborate and detailed reports are extant for religious houses in the counties of Gloucester, Hampshire, Huntingdon, Lancaster, Leicester, Norfolk, Rutland, Suffolk, Sussex, Warwick, and Wiltshire. In these returns, as Dr. Gairdner, the official historian of the reign of Henry VIII. says, “the characters of the inmates of the houses visited are almost uniformly good, the country gentlemen who sat on the commission somehow came to a very different conclusion to that of Drs. Layton and Legh.” The returns for Nottingham are unfortunately not extant; if they were there is every reason to believe that they would flatly contradict the pair of professional slanderers.

It may be well here to confute the current notion that the suppressed monks, nuns, canons, and friars were all pensioned. The fact is that it was a distinct minority of the ejected religious that obtained a pension in Nottinghamshire or elsewhere. A large number of the younger professed members, namely, all under twenty-five years of age, were ruthlessly ejected by order of Cromwell, as Visitor General, before ever the scheme of thorough dissolution began. With regard to the smaller religious houses, which were dissolved in 1536–7, the rule was to grant pensions only to the superiors. Thus the prior of Blyth was the only one of that house who obtained any pension, and the like was the case with regard to the prioress of Broadholme. Friars received no pensions, and on being ejected were simply presented with a suit of secular clothes. Every excuse was made to avoid pension granting; thus the Lenton monks received nothing, as they were supposed, on paltry evidence, to be all tainted with high treason. The judicial murders in connection with the suppression of Lenton and Beauvale are peculiarly odious.

In the case of Nottinghamshire, it can readily be seen how serious a matter the sweeping away of monks, canons, and nuns was to the poor of the county. Not only was relief in kind given at the gates of every monastic house, small or large, as well as a great variety of voluntary doles[59] and aids in sickness, and the assigning to the poor after an inmate’s death the commons of the deceased for a whole year, but there were actual obligatory alms that various houses were bound by their statutes to distribute on specific days, often dating back to the very time of their foundation. Among such obligatory alms were: Lenton, £41, 1s. 8d.; Worksop, £25, 1s. 4d.; Welbeck, £8, 13s. 4d.; Thurgarton, £6, 8s. 1d.; Newstead, £4; Blyth, £3, 6s. 8d.; and Shelford and Wallingwells, £2, 6s. 8d. each—yielding an annual total of £93, 4s. 4d., or considerably more than £1000 a year according to the present purchasing power of money. Not a shadow of attempt was made by Henry VIII. and his abettors to save for the poor a single penny of this money, which had been definitely dedicated to the service of the poor.

When we come to the consideration of particular religious houses of the county, there is no doubt that there were several of exceptional interest, and whose history could be gleaned from unprinted or little-known records with so much amplitude that there would be abundant justification for the issue of monographs of no mean dimensions. Such is emphatically the case with the Cluniac house of Lenton, with which the town of Nottingham was so intimately connected, and with the important Premonstratensian house of White Canons of Welbeck. A third instance is undoubtedly to be found in the Black Canons of Newstead. Newstead was by no means one of the largest or wealthiest of the English houses of Austin Canons, but its history can be so fully exemplified, its situation in a beautifully timbered glade, surrounded on all sides by Sherwood Forest, is so exceptionally picturesque, the extent of the remnants of its conventual buildings so extensive, and its post-dissolution story, especially in connection with Lord Byron, so romantic, that a complete and carefully compiled work is much to be desired. It is proposed, then, to devote the remainder of this sketch to a record of some of the facts relative to Newstead Priory. In the later Byron period its title was changed[60] to Newstead Abbey, a piece of mendacious pride of which several other lay owners of monastic sites have been guilty.

From certain statements in the foundation charter of Henry II., it has been assumed by some that Newstead was a re-establishment of Austin Canons from some other part of Sherwood Forest, where they had been originally placed at an earlier date by Henry I.; but this is after all only a matter of somewhat vague conjecture. The very name of this religious house renders, however, some support to this idea. The prefix “New” has the same force as in Newark, Newcastle, Newminster, and the host of Newtons; and it was possibly here used in contradistinction to the Oldstead of a former foundation. There are two other English monastic establishments of this name—namely, the Gilbertine house of Newstead in Lindsey, and another Austin house of Newstead near Stamford; in both these cases a refoundation has been suggested.

Newstead Priory—officially termed Prioratus Sancte Marie de Novo Loco in foresta nostra de Scirwurda—was founded in Sherwood as a house of Austin Canons by Henry II., about the year 1770. The foundation charter, executed at the royal residence of Clarendon, Wilts, conferred on the canons a site near the centre of the forest, Papplewick, with its church and mill and other appurtenances; the meadow of Bestwood by the side of the water; and 100 shillings of rent in Shapwick and Walkeringham. The canons were also granted a great extent of the forest waste around the monastery, the bounds of which are set forth in detail at the beginning of the chartulary. King John, in 1206, confirmed the founder’s grant, together with the church of Hucknall, of his own gift when Earl of Mortain, and £7, 8s. 6d. of lands in Walkeringham, Misterton, Shapwick, and “Walkerith” in Lincolnshire.

In 1238, on 8th May, the mandate of Henry III. was sent to the prior of Newstead to allow Thomas de Dunholmia, citizen of London, to have all the goods late of Joan, Queen of Scots, which had been deposited with the canons [61]after her death by John de Sancto Egidio and Henry Balliol, to do therewith what the King had enjoined on them.

Newstead Priory. Buck’s West View, 1726.

The convent obtained the royal licence, in April 1241, to elect a new prior, when their choice fell on William the cellarer. The licence was delivered at Westminster to Henry Walkelin and Thomas de Donham, two of the canons, who took the news of the death of Prior Robert to the King.

The endowments slowly increased by various small benefactions. Thus Henry III., in 1251, granted the priory 10 acres of land out of the royal hay of Linby, to be held quit of all interference by the forest ministers, with licence to enclose the land with hedge and dyke. Nevertheless the convent was so seriously in debt in 1274, that the King appointed a receiver to administer their estates during pleasure. In 1279 the prior and canons obtained licence to fell and sell the timber of a wood of 40 acres which had been given them in 1245. Such a step as this would certainly bring considerable financial relief; but the regular income was after all very small for a house where wayfarers would so often claim hospitality. The income, according to the Taxation Roll of 1291, was only £83, 13s. 6d. The house was again pressed by its creditors in 1295, when, at their own request, Hugh de Vienne was appointed by the Crown to take charge of the revenue, applying the income, saving a reasonable sustenance for the prior, canons, and their men, to the relief of their debts; no sheriff, bailiff, or such-like minister were to lodge in the priory or its granges during such custody. On 25th July 1300, another like custodian, Peter de Leicester, a King’s clerk, was appointed after a similar fashion.

The King, in 1304, made an important augmentation of the possessions of Newstead by granting the house 180 acres of the waste in the forest hay of Linby at a rent of £4, due to the sheriff, with licence to enclose them and bring them into cultivation.

Both Edward I. and Edward II. seem to have been[62] attached to this house in the centre of the forest, notwithstanding the important royal hunting lodge at Clipston. Edward I. sojourned at Newstead in August 1280 and in September 1290, and Edward II. in September 1307 and October 1315, as is shown by the Patent and Close Rolls. The royal licence was obtained from the latter King, in 1315, to permit the appropriation of the church of Egmanton.

News of the resignation of Prior Richard de Grange was brought to the King at Nottingham by the canons Robert de Sutton and Robert de Wylleby on 13th December 1324, and they took back with them leave to elect. On 10th December the King signified the Archbishop of York that he had assented to the election of William de Thurgarton, canon of Newstead, as prior. Owing to informality the archbishop quashed the election and claimed that the right of preferment had devolved upon him. Recognising, however, the worth of William de Thurgarton, the archbishop proceeded to collate him as superior; the King, when at Ravensdale, the forest lodge of Duffield, Derbyshire, on 10th January 1323, issued his mandate for the deliverance of the temporalities to the new prior.

The financial troubles do not appear to have much abated when Edward III. was on the throne. In 1330 the priory had remitted to them the rent of £4 due to the sheriff for the 180 acres within the hay of Linby. Licence was granted in 1334 for the alienation to the priory by William de Cossall of 12 messuages, a mill, and various lands in Cossall and Nottingham, to find three chaplains, two to serve in the church of St. Katherine Cossall, and one in the priory church, celebrating mass daily for himself, his ancestors, and successors. Considerable additional grants of land were made in 1341, conditional on the maintenance of two chaplains to say daily mass in the church of St. Mary Edwinstowe.

Richard II., in 1392, granted to the prior and convent of Newstead a tun of wine yearly in the port of Kingston-upon-Hull, in aid of the maintenance of divine service.

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Henry VI., in 1437, licensed Prior Robert and convent to enclose 8 acres within Sherwood Forest, just in front of the entry to the priory, and to dyke, quickset, and hedge it, for which they were to render at the Exchequer one rose at midsummer.

Edward IV., in 1461, licensed John Durham, the prior, and his convent to enclose 48 acres of forest granted them by Henry II., adjoining the priory on the north, east, and south, with a ditch and low hedge, and to cut down and dispose of the wood growing thereon.

The Valor of 1534 gave the clear annual value of this priory as £167, 16s. 11½d. The spiritualities, amounting to £58, included the appropriated Nottinghamshire rectories of Papplewick, Hucknall Torkard, Stapleford, Tuxford, and Egmanton, and the Derbyshire rectory of Ault Hucknall. The considerable deductions included 20s. given to the poor on Maundy Thursday in commemoration of Henry II. as founder; and a portion of food and drink, similar to that of a canon, given to some poor person every day, valued at 60s. a year.

The episcopal registers at York contain various records as to diocesan visitations of Newstead. Archbishop Grey visited the priory in person in 1252, when he found, after individual examination, that the prior and canons were fervid in religion and lovers of peace and concord. He laid down a number of minor injunctions for their still better rule, which were to be read twice a year before the convent.

Archbishop Geoffrey de Ludham personally visited Newstead on 4th July 1259, and approved of the statutes made by Archbishop Grey, adding certain injunctions of his own. The prior, considering the evil days in which they were living, was to do his best to obtain grace and favour with patrons; he was personally to receive guests with a smiling countenance (vultu prout decet hilari et jocundo), and to merit the love of his convent, doing nothing without the counsel of the older canons. Medicines were to be reserved for the sick; any brother noticing[64] the infringement of a rule was to speak; there was to be no drinking after compline, nor wanderings outside the cloister; and a canon was to be specially deputed to look after the sick.

The record of a visitation by Archbishop Wickwaine in 1280 brought to light certain irregularities. In addition to general injunctions, such as the unlocking of the carrels twice a year, and oftener if necessary, in order to eradicate the vice of private property, it was ordered that two of the canons were to be confined to cloister for the improvement of their manners, that another canon was to be restored to the general convent through penitence, but that the cellarer and cook were to be deprived of their respective offices.

Consequent on a visitation of Newstead by Archbishop Romanus, in 1293, injunctions were issued for the correction of the house, which followed the usual formal lines, save that he prohibited the resort to any games with dice, and that the sick were to be more delicately fed, and not with the usual gross food of the convent. The archbishop at the same time laid down that John, their late prior, was to be honoured and his counsel followed, because of his great services to the house and his generosity about his pension in freely and voluntarily giving up much to which he was entitled. As a new ordinance for his pension, the archbishop ordered that Brother John was to have his chamber and garden as previously arranged, with a canon’s livery for himself and another for the canon who was to dwell with him and say the divine offices, and another for his boy; and 30s. a year for his own necessities and for the boy’s wages; any guest who came to visit him was to have his meals in the frater or in the hall.

It is often forgotten that all the chief religious Orders had their own scheme of visitation independent of the diocesan. An interesting reminder of this occurs in an entry of a Newstead visitation which took place on 16th July 1261; it was subsequently entered in Giffard’s register.[65] The visitors on this occasion were the priors of the two Austin houses of Nostell and Guisborough, who were at that time the duly appointed provincial visitors of the order. They enjoined that a good servant, with a boy, was to be placed in the infirmary, and that one of the canons was to say the canonical hours for them, as well as celebrate mass, according to the rule of the Blessed Augustine.[38] A chamberlain was to be appointed to provide clothes and shoes for the convent; he was to have a horse to attend fairs and a servant assigned him to buy necessaries. The canons’ dishes were to have more eggs and relishes, but within moderation; never more than three eggs. No one was to drink but in the refectory after collation, and then to attend compline. Accounts were to be rendered twice a year. Canons were to make open amends in chapter on Sundays for transgressions. A lay brother (conversus) was to look after the tannery, with a canon to superintend and to see to the buying and selling. Another lay brother was to have charge of the garden, under the sub-cellarer. Finally, the prior was ordered to bring Canon Richard de Walkeringham with him to the next general chapter; he was to testify whether these injunctions had been obeyed.

The clear annual income of Newstead having fallen considerably below the amount of £200 fixed as the limit for the suppression of the smaller houses in 1536, its fate seemed certain. But this was one of the cases in which a semi-fraudulent arrangement was encouraged by officials, who well knew that the doom of all monasteries was fixed, whereby Newstead obtained exemption on payment of the[66] heavy fine of £233, 6s. 8d. A patent to this effect was signed on 16th December 1537; but it only held good for about eighteen months, for on 21st July 1539 the surrender of the house was extorted. This document was signed by Robert Blake, prior, Richard Kitchen, sub-prior, John Bredon, cellarer, and nine other canons, Robert Sisson, John Derfelde, William Dotton, William Bathley, Christopher Matheram, Geoffrey Acryth, Richard Hardwyke, Henry Tingker, and Leonard Alynson.

Dr. John London, the commissioner who took the surrender of Newstead, was one of the most objectionable and hateful of these suppression officials. He held no small amount of preferments in the Church, being a considerable pluralist. He was dean of Osney, dean of Wallingford, and canon of Windsor, and from 1526 to 1542, warden of New College, Oxford. He was one of the most thorough-paced spoilers of monasteries, so far as the work of devastation was concerned. His letters to Cromwell show that he delighted in the disfiguring of all that was fair and beautiful in the monastic churches and chapels, personally superintending the defacements. In connection with the friaries, he avowed that his orders for immediate destruction of roofs and windows were for the purpose of preventing the friars again taking possession of their property. He showed marvellous ingenuity in hunting out valuables of all kinds, but occasionally fell a victim to his credulity in listening to slanders. Being assured by a tale-bearer that the abbot of Combe had hidden £500 in a feather bed in his brother’s house, he forthwith proceeded to that residence and ripped open the beds in search for the money. Eventually he examined the abbot himself, who readily acknowledged that he held some money belonging to his former house, but it proved to be only £25. London’s shameful treatment of the abbess of Godstow is well known, and in that instance even Cromwell had to remonstrate with his conduct. Bishop Burnet, the historian, states that he has “seen complaints of Dr. London soliciting[67] nuns.” That he was a man of odiously dissolute life is beyond all contradiction.

Archdeacon South has left the following record of this dissolute bully, and his subsequent public exposure:—

“But to what open shame Doctor London was afterwards put, with open penance, with two smocks on his shoulders, for Mrs. Thykked and Mrs. Jennynges, the mother and daughter, and how he was taken with one of them by Henry Plankney in his gallery, being his sister’s son, as it was then known to a number in Oxford and elsewhere, so I think that some yet living hath it in remembrance, as well as the penner of this history.”[39]

Archbishop Cranmer summed up his judgment of this suppressor of Newstead by styling him, in a still extant manuscript, in his own hand, “a stout and filthy prebendary of Windsor.” He died in utter misery in the Fleet Prison in 1543, after having been found guilty of perjury, and condemned to ride through Windsor, Reading, and Newbury, with his face to the horse’s tail, and to stand in the pillory in each of these market towns with a paper on his head announcing his offence.

A pension scheme was drawn up on 24th July, and forwarded to Sir Richard Rich for ratification. To the prior was assigned the not unhandsome sum of £26, 13s. 4d., to the sub-prior £6, to the cellarer £5, 6s. 8d., and to the remaining canons annuities ranging from £4, 13s. 4d. to £3, 6s. 8d.

Thus, in July 1539, came to an end the continuous services to God and man, for upwards of three and a half centuries, of those devoted religious the canons of St. Augustine of Sherwood Forest. That which one royal Henry had founded of his beneficence, another royal Henry blotted out through consummate greed. As Lord Byron says:—

“Years roll on years; to ages, ages yield;
Abbots to abbots, in a line, succeed;
Religion’s charter their protecting shield,
Till royal sacrilege their doom decreed.[68]
One holy Henry rear’d the Gothic walls,
And bade the pious inmates rest in peace;
Another Henry the kind gift recalls,
And bids devotion’s hallow’d echoes cease.”

The following is a list of the successive priors (not abbots) of this house so far as at present ascertained:—

- Eustace, 1216.
- Richard, 1216.
- Aldred, 1230.
- Robert, 1234.
- William, 1241.
- William de Mottisfont, 1267.
- John de Lexinton, resigned, 1288.
- Richard de Hallam, 1288.
- Richard de Grange, 1293.
- William de Thurgarton, 1324.
- Hugh de Collingham, 1349.
- William de Collingham, resigned, 1356.
- John de Wylesthorp, resigned, 1366.
- William de Allerton, 1366.
- John de Hucknall, 1406.
- William Bakewell, 1417.
- Thomas Carleton, 1422.
- Robert Cutwolfe, 1423.
- William Misterton, 1455.
- John Durham, 1461.
- Thomas Gunthorp, 1467.
- William Sandale, 1504.
- John Blake, 1526.

Immediately on the surrender being accomplished the custody of the house was handed over to Sir John Byron of Colwick. In May 1540, Sir John Byron was put into legal possession of the house, site, church, steeple, churchyard, and of all the lands, mills, advowsons, rectories, and of the late priory in return for the then large sum of about £800 handed over to the Crown.

This Sir John Byron was by no means the mushroom man, like so many of Cromwell and Henry VIII.’s novi homines who were bribed with monastic estates to support the policy of reckless confiscation, not a few of whom found further reward in the creation of peerages. This “Little Sir John with the Big Beard” was descended from the Byrons who had fought at Crecy, was grand-nephew of the Byron of Bosworth Field, and he himself had helped to turn Henry Tudor into Henry VII.

No sooner had the canons been turned adrift than the great conventual church, 257 feet in length, the nave of which had always been reserved for quasi-parochial use by the tenants on the prior’s estates, was deliberately[69] unroofed and dismantled. The great block of the conventual buildings, surrounding the cloisters, on the immediate south of the church, were preserved by Sir John, the south transept with its stone Maundy seat, escaped destruction, as it completed the square of the buildings now occupied as a domestic residence. He is said to have moved the fountain, or water-conduit, which occupied the centre of the cloister garth, to the west front of his reconstructed house. Among the more striking survivals of the work of the first lay-owner of the priory are two brilliantly coloured overmantels, carved with busts in relief of Henry VIII. and other contemporary personages.

The successive owners of Newstead Priory were:—

Sir John Byron, who died in 1576.

Sir John Byron (2), who died in 1609. He was the founder of the Hucknall Broomhill charity. In June 1603 he entertained at the priory Queen Anne of Denmark and her son Prince Henry, when on their way from Scotland to join James I. in London.

Sir John Byron (3), who died in 1625.

Sir John Byron (4), M.P. for Nottingham, a faithful adherent of Charles II.; he was created Lord Byron, with remainder to his brother, in 1643; he died in Paris in 1652.

Richard Lord Byron, the defender of Newark, succeeded his brother, and died in 1679; he entertained Charles II. at Newstead.

His son William, the third baron, died in 1695; his wife, Lady Elizabeth, gave the large silver-gilt chalice and paten to the church of Hucknall Torkard.

William, the fourth baron, son of the third, died in 1736.

His son William, the fifth baron, known as “Devil Byron,” who killed William Chaworth in a duel, died, without surviving issue, in 1798.

George Gordon, the sixth Lord Byron, the poet, was great-nephew of the fifth baron. His two predecessors had seriously embarrassed the estate; it was so heavily[70] mortgaged that in 1814 he finally left Newstead, to his intense grief, and after prolonged negotiations, the property passed, in 1817, into the hands of his friend and schoolfellow Colonel Wildman.

Colonel Wildman, at great cost and with considerable taste, considering the general lack of taste of those days, proceeded to rescue the priory from its deplorable condition. He replaced the water-conduit in the centre of the cloisters; removed a disfiguring stone stairway; and generally altered the interior in an endeavour to restore as much as possible the original features. At a later period he erected the Sussex tower, in commemoration of the visit of the Duke of Sussex. He left the beautiful pile of buildings in much the same condition as it is at present.

After the Colonel’s death, the priory and estate were bought in 1860 by the late Mr. W. F. Webb. Under Mr. Webb’s guidance “the work of restoration and beautifying was piously and intelligently continued; he made it one of the chief aims of his life to increase both the historical and Byronic interests of the place.” Since his death the greatest care and good taste have continued to be expended on the house, and more particularly on the gardens and grounds, by his daughters, Lady Chermside and Miss Webb.

Space entirely prohibits any attempt at a full or technical description of the ancient conventual church, and the buildings round the cloister garth which still retain, notwithstanding the frequent alterations, so many distinctive features of their original erection, at different periods for monastic purposes. The writer has had the advantage of making a fairly thorough survey of the priory in both the “seventies” and “eighties” of last century, and again during the twentieth century under the intelligent guidance of his late valued friend, the Rev. R. H. Whitworth, chaplain of Newstead, and for upwards of forty years vicar of the adjacent parish of Blidworth. To describe [71]Newstead adequately would require at least the whole of this volume.

Plan of Newstead Priory, by Rev. R. H. Whitworth.

Mr. Whitworth loved every stone of Newstead and every detail of its story. Not long before his death he gave to the writer the accompanying plan (together with many memoranda) the work of his own pen, and though not entirely accurate in dimensions or lettering, it is of real interest, and it is a pleasure to reproduce it in facsimile.

All that can here be put on record are a few cursory remarks on certain remaining details, chiefly taken from Mr. Whitworth’s memoranda. The exceeding beauty of the west front of the church, with its delicacy of execution, of the best period of the reign of Edward I., is well known to all lovers of England’s ecclesiastical architecture. Sir John Byron, leaving the stately front as an ornament in line with the front of his reconstructed house, made so clean a sweep of the once stately church right up to the eastern end, that the smooth turf shows not a trace of even the foundations of the piers. It is characteristic of the semi-pagan character of the poet Byron that though he could vigorously upbraid the sacrilegious conduct of Henry VIII. and his myrmidons in ejecting the canons and in silencing all strains of worship “within these hallowed walls,” he did not apparently realise the unhappy inconsistency and gross irreverence of burying his favourite dog “Boatswain” on the holiest spot of this consecrated site and placing a monument over its body!

Grievous as was the uprooting of this once stately church, it is impossible not to feel grateful to Sir John Byron for the preservation of the exquisite chapter house of the priory with its beautiful groined roof supported by two pillars of clustered banded shafts. It is situated, according to the invariable monastic custom, on the eastern side of the cloisters, separated from the south transept of the church by a slype or passage; it is of similar date to the west front of the church. Tradition has it that the first Sir John Byron had this chapter house set apart for[72] use as a domestic chapel, and for that purpose it is still used.

In common with other monks and canons, the inmates of Newstead Priory, when they knew the storm was about to break, endeavoured to conceal some of their ornaments and valuables ere they were inventoried. They flung into the water of the lake in front of their house a fine pair of great brass altar candlesticks, originally 4 feet 6½ inches high (they have been raised 10½ inches), together with the brass eagle which served as a Gospel lectern. These were accidentally found and recovered from the lake about 1780. Hoping perchance some day to reoccupy their old home, the canons packed tightly the cavity of the globe on which the eagle rested with a selection of their parchment title-deeds, dating from Edward III. down to Henry VIII. When fished up, in the days of that evil spendthrift, the fifth Lord Byron, the eagle and candlesticks were sold to a Nottingham dealer in old metals. They were repurchased by Sir Richard Kaye, rector of Kirkby; he was a canon of Southwell, and they are still in the honoured possession of that cathedral church. The eagle bore an inscription asking for prayers for the souls of Ralph Savage, the donor, and for all the faithful departed; he was the founder of a chantry in the year 1488, in the Derbyshire church of North Wingfield.

Like so many old residences formed out of ancient monasteries, Newstead has the reputation of being haunted, and that by more than one spectre. But the name and fate of the last of the Byrons has overclouded and obscured all previous tenants, mortal or otherwise, and flung the pall of poetic melancholy over the domains such as no spiritual imaginations can survive. The legends connected with Newstead are many, and descend from that mysterious maid of Saracen birth or residence, whose form and features are so frequently repeated in the ancient panel work of the priory’s interior, down to Lord Byron’s immediate predecessor in the title and estates. “Devil Byron,” as this[73] man was called, among other wild tales connected with his name was said to be himself haunted by the spirit of a sister, to whom he refused to speak for years preceding her death in consequence of a family scandal, notwithstanding her heart-rending appeals. Ebenezer Elliot, in a ballad he wrote on this legend, introduces the apparitions of both Devil Byron and his sister as riding forth together in stormy weather, the lady still making passionate appeals to the immovable brother to speak to her[40]:—

“Well sleep the dead; in holy ground,
Well sleeps the heart of iron,
The worm that pares his sister’s cheek,
What cares it for Byron?
Yet when her night of death comes round,
They ride and drive together,
And ever, when they ride or drive,
All wilful is the weather.
On mighty winds in spectre coach,
Fast speeds the heart of iron,
On spectre steed, the spectre dame,
Side by side with Byron.
Oh, ‘Night doth love her,’ O the clouds,
They do her form environ,
The lightning weeps—he hears her sob,
‘Speak to me! Lord Byron!’
On winds, on clouds, they ride, they drive,
Oh hark thou heart of iron,
The thunder whispers mournfully,
‘O speak to her, Lord Byron!’”

Another family apparition which is said to have haunted the old priory was “Sir John Byron the Little with the Big Beard.” An ancient portrait of this mysterious ancestor was some years since seen hanging over the door of the great saloon, and was sometimes at midnight said to descend[74] from its sombre frame and promenade the state apartments. Indeed this ancient worthy’s visitations were not confined merely to nightfall; one young lady on a visit years ago positively asserted that in broad daylight, the door of his former chamber being opened, she saw Sir John the Little sitting by the fireplace and reading out of an old-fashioned book.

Several other apparitions have been seen from time to time about this ancient, time-honoured building. Washington Irving mentions that a young lady, a cousin of Lord Byron’s, on one occasion slept in the room next the clock, and when she was in bed she saw a lady in white come out of the wall on one side of the room, and go into the wall on the other side. Many curious noises and strange sights have been heard and seen by many visitors at Newstead; but the best known and most noted spectre connected with the place and immortalised by Byron’s verse is the “Goblin Friar.” The particular chamber that this spectre is supposed specially to frequent, and which is known par excellence as the Haunted Chamber, adjoins Byron’s bedroom. During the poet’s residence this dismal-looking room was occupied by his page, who is said to have been a youth of striking beauty. Lord Byron and many others not only believed in the existence of the Black Friar, but asserted that they had really seen it. It did not confine its visitations to the Haunted Chamber, but, at night, walked into the cloisters, and other parts of the Priory.

“A monk arrayed
In cowl and beads and dusky garb appeared,
Now in the moonlight and now lapsed in shade,
With steps that trod as heavy, yet unheard.”

This apparition was the evil genius of the Byrons, and its appearance foreshadowed misfortune of some kind to the member of the family by whom it was seen. Lord Byron fully believed that he beheld this apparition a short time before the greatest misfortune of his life, his ill-starred[75] union with Miss Milbanke. Alluding to his faith in these things, he said:—

“I merely mean to say, what Johnson said,
That in the course of some six thousand years,
All nations have believed that from the dead
A visitant at intervals appears;
And what is strangest upon this strange head
Is that whatever bar the reason rears
’Gainst such belief, there’s something stronger still
In its behalf, let those deny who will.”

And he thus introduces the presumed duties, as it were, of the Black Friar:—

“By the marriage bed of their lords, ’tis said,
He flies on the bridal eve,
And ’tis held as faith, to their bed of death
He comes, but not to grieve.
When an heir is born, he is bound to mourn,
And when aught is to befall
That ancient line, in the pale moonshine,
He walks from hall to hall.
His form you may trace, but not his face,
’Tis shadowed by his cowl,
But his eyes may be seen, from the folds between,
And they seem of a parted soul.”

However capable as a poet, Byron was clearly no student of monastic affairs. Otherwise he would have known that anything more unlikely than the residence of a Black or Dominican Friar within a house of Black Canons could hardly have taken place. But to him, as to many modern writers, including several of our leading novelists, monks, canons, and friars, though absolutely distinct, are of one and the same order.

The apartments occupied by Lord Byron, bedroom, dressing-room, and small haunted chamber—supposed to have been originally the prior’s lodgings—are carefully[76] kept in the same state as when occupied by the poet. Other rooms over the cloisters, hung with suitable tapestry, are named after Edward III., Henry VII., and Charles II.; they are said to have been respectively occupied by these Kings when visiting the priory.

[77]

## WOLLATON HALL
By J. A. Gotch, F.S.A.

Nottinghamshire is not rich in ancient houses; for although it can boast of many fine seats, they are either comparatively modern in date, or they have been so much altered as to have lost their ancient character. By far the most interesting architecturally is Wollaton Hall, close to Nottingham, the seat of Lord Middleton.

It was built in the reign of Elizabeth by Sir Francis Willoughby, whose family had lived for several generations in a house near the church. Sir Francis left no son, but his eldest daughter and co-heir married her cousin Percival Willoughby, who succeeded in her right to the Wollaton property. He was among the earliest of the gentry knighted by King James I. on his accession to the English throne, receiving that honour at Worksop on April 20, 1603. He died about the beginning of the Civil War; his son, another Sir Francis, succeeded him, and was in turn followed by his only son, Francis, the celebrated traveller and naturalist. Francis Willoughby achieved a great reputation as a scientist, and was one of the first members of the Royal Society. He died in 1672 at the early age of thirty-seven. To him eventually succeeded his second son, Thomas, who was created Lord Middleton in 1711 by Queen Anne. He also left a daughter, Cassandra, who married the Duke of Chandos, and is interesting to us because of some notes concerning her ancestral home which she left behind her.

Wollaton Hall is sometimes quoted as a typical example[78] of the work of the English Renaissance. Those who are in sympathy with that phase of domestic architecture point to it as a magnificent specimen of an Elizabethan palace. Those who are out of sympathy direct the finger of scorn to its extravagances and its pretentiousness. As a matter of fact it cannot be called a typical example. In its chief characteristics it stands by itself, namely, in its lofty central hall and its four corner pavilions. In its extreme regularity of treatment, and in the great care bestowed upon its detail, it exhibits far more of conscious effort in design than the majority of houses built at that period.

The interesting question is, Who was responsible for the design of Wollaton? So little is really known from actual records of the architectural designers of that period, or of their method of work, that the field of conjecture is a vast one, and offers scope for manœuvres on a large scale. But there are one or two facts connected with this house which help us to a certain extent. We know from the inscription over the garden door that it was built by Sir Francis Willoughby, constructed with uncommon art, and left as a precious possession to the Willoughbys. It was begun in 1580 and finished in 1588. The actual inscription runs thus, and consists of two hexameters—

“En has Francisci Willughbi militis ædes
Rara arte extructas Willughboeisq relictas.
Inchoatæ 1580 et finitæ 1588.”

We also know that in John Thorpe’s collection of drawings in the Soane Museum in London there is a ground-plan of the house and half the front elevation. We also find in Wollaton Church a monument to “Mr. Robert Smythson, gent. architector and surveyor unto the most worthy house of Wollaton and diverse others of great account,” who died in 1614 at the age of seventy-nine. There are also some drawings relating to Wollaton in the valuable collection belonging to Col. Coke of Brookhill, near Alfreton. These belonged to a John Smithson, architect, of Bolsover, and [79]were largely his own handiwork. The drawings of Wollaton comprise a plan of the house with forecourts, an elevation of one of the corner pavilions, a plan of the “new orchard,” dated 1618, and some sketches of the stone screen in the great hall. Lastly, we learn from Cassandra Willoughby, Duchess of Chandos, who wrote an account of the house in 1702, that Sir Francis Willoughby sent for the master-workmen who built the house out of Italy, and also for most of the stone figures which adorn it.

Fig. 1. Plan of Wollaton Hall, by John Thorpe.

Here, then, we have apparently a number of conflicting claims. No one, however, contests with Sir Francis Willoughby the honour of having built the house in the sense of having ordered and paid for it. Nor is its date in question. But there are three claimants to the honour of having designed it, namely, John Thorpe, Robert Smythson, and the master-workmen out of Italy. First, as to the latter. The idea has long been very prevalent that the houses of Elizabeth’s time owed their special characteristics to Italy and to Italian workmen; and so, in a way, they did, because Italy influenced more or less directly the work of the Renaissance in all other countries. But, as a matter of fact, it is extremely difficult to trace anything but a very small amount of English work to actual Italian hands. The whole tendency of recent inquiries goes to show that it was English hands which executed most of the work which has an Italian appearance. The tales of models having been sent for from Italy for English houses are probably apocryphal, because the plan of an English house differed widely from that of an Italian; and although it might be rash to assert that Cassandra the Duchess was wrong, still the master-workmen who were sent for out of Italy could have had very little to do with the designing of Wollaton. The chief credit for that performance ought to be given to John Thorpe, and it is possible to reconcile his claims with those of Robert Smythson by regarding the latter as the chief workman and clerk of the works, or[80] surveyor. It must be remembered that although the same terms are used now as were used then, the meaning of them has changed. We find a number of men described as “architectus” or “architector,” who were what we should regard as master-masons, and that is probably what Mr. Robert Smythson was. But it must also be remembered that the relation of the master-mason to the architect was then very different from what it is to-day. The architect to-day designs everything himself; in those days he seems only to have given a general idea of what he wanted, leaving the detail to be developed by the master-mason. The latter might therefore well take credit to himself—or his sorrowing family for him—as being the “architector” to a house like Wollaton.

There is no established connection between Robert Smythson of Wollaton and John Smithson of Bolsover; but both men were occupied with building matters, and the dates would allow of Robert being the father of John. The relationship, if it existed, would account for John being employed to make drawings of Wollaton.

The actual origin of the house may properly be attributed to Thorpe. He claims nothing for himself, he only leaves certain drawings behind him (Figs. 1 and 3).

In comparing Thorpe’s plan with the actual ground-plan (Fig. 2), it will be found that the main dimensions tally almost exactly; the corner pavilions, however, are not quite so large as he shows them, and the projection of the wings beyond the entrance and garden fronts is rather larger than he indicates. The hall is built to his dimensions of 60 feet by 30 feet. As to the general similarity of the two plans, the likeness is obvious, but the difference in the thickness of the various main walls should be observed. The variations in the positions of the internal cross walls need hardly be considered, because they result, in all probability, from comparatively recent alterations. But in the main skeleton there are several noteworthy discrepancies. The corner pavilions in Thorpe’s plan do not overlap the north and [81]south fronts, whereas they do in the building itself. The entrance porch as built is quite different from what he shows, and so is the projecting window in the centre of the south or garden front. The two central bays which he shows on the east and west fronts do not appear in the building itself; as a matter of fact the east front has six large windows between the pavilions, whereas the west has seven. Thorpe shows both these fronts treated alike.

Fig. 2. Wollaton Hall: Ground Plan, 1901.

Fig. 3. Wollaton Hall: Half-elevation, by John Thorpe.

Fig. 4. Wollaton Hall.

Comparing Thorpe’s half-elevation with the photograph of the building (Fig. 4), the general likeness again is obvious. But Thorpe shows no basement windows; his front porch agrees with his plan and differs from the actual work; he shows two four-light windows in the front at the side of the porch, whereas there are actually a four-light and a five-light; he shows a single pilaster between these windows, whereas there are two. The end of his wing has a four-light window; the building itself has a five-light. Niches which he does not show have been made on the main front as well as on the flanks of the various projections. He shows several ways of ornamenting the pedestals of his pilasters; in execution they have the gondola rings shown to the left of his ground story. The curly gable of his corner pavilion, although carefully shown, does not quite tally with the gable as carried out; nor does his angle turret on the central tower agree with what was built. He evidently started by treating the angle with quoins surmounted by a small turret at the top, but he subsequently lengthened the turret downwards. The pilasters which he shows on this central block do not appear in the building; if they had they would have served to bring that part of the composition more into harmony with the lower part, and nothing would probably have been heard of the suggestion that the central pavilion is part of an older building. A study of the plan and of the building, however, disposes of this suggestion, nor could the lofty hall and the room over it be harmonised with any known treatment of houses prior to the Elizabethan era.

[82]

The discrepancies here pointed out do away with the idea that Thorpe’s drawings were made from the building after erection. They are easily accounted for on the supposition that the drawings were modified in the course of being carried out.

If we turn to Smithson’s drawings, we find that his plan (Fig. 5) tallies almost exactly (as to the main walls) with the existing plan. This leads to the supposition that his plan was drawn from the actual building at a time when the addition of forecourts was contemplated; if, indeed, owing to the considerable and irregular slope of the ground they were ever contemplated. His elevation of the corner pavilion (Fig. 6) agrees almost accurately with the actual building.

There is one point in connection with the Thorpe drawings which bears forcibly upon the question as to the source whence the ideas which underlay our English Renaissance came. There was a tolerably widespread desire in Elizabeth’s time to benefit by what was being done in foreign lands. A young architect, John Shute, was sent by the Duke of Northumberland to study architecture in Italy. Lord Burghley made more than one inquiry for books on architecture recently published in France, and John Thorpe himself, as his drawings show, studied Italian, French, and Dutch books. One of the French books to which he devoted considerable attention was Androuet du Cerceau’s Les plus Excellents Bastiments de France, published in 1576, and in that book are a few plans with corner pavilions such as those at Wollaton. The disposition of Wollaton is so unusual that it is quite possible that Thorpe may have put into practice here some of the ideas he gleaned from Du Cerceau’s book. Some of Du Cerceau’s plans he copied into his own MS. book, but in doing so he adapted them to English uses, and it was much the same with Wollaton. The plan is not a direct copy; it is only the general idea which may have been derived from the French source. Thorpe having designed the plan and elevation, may be [83]presumed to have handed them over to Robert Smythson, who, with the help of the master-workmen from Italy, carried the work out. Such a course of procedure would at any rate reconcile the claims of the various parties.

Fig. 5. Wollaton Hall: Plan by Smithson.

Fig. 6. Wollaton Hall: Elevation of Corner Pavilion, by Smithson.

But leaving the question of who designed the house, a few words must be bestowed upon the structure itself. Its plan, although of foreign origin, was so contrived as to comply with old-established English habits. The central position of the hall rendered it not altogether easy of access in the usual way—that is, into the passage at the end called the “screens.” The most direct way from the front door to the hall is that which now exists, but this leads you into the middle of the side, not into the screens. Thorpe, therefore, kept his hall floor above the level of his front door, and led the visitor, not directly into the hall, but round to the right, and so, by way of a flight of steps, up to the end of the hall, and delivered him into the screens in the usual way. The spare space not occupied by the stairs he devoted to the porter’s rooms. Smithson’s plan shows a similar arrangement. A further reason for keeping the hall floor raised was that, contrary to the prevailing custom, he put his kitchen and servants’ rooms down in a basement. This was almost a necessity of the design, for being of a pretentious nature, it was obliged to be grand on every side, and the kitchen and inferior premises had to be hidden away in a basement in order not to spoil the symmetry of the four show-sides of the house.

The disposition of the house, with a central hall surrounded by rooms two stories high, necessitated an unusual height for the hall, which is over 50 feet high. Its window-sills also had to be above the roofs of the surrounding rooms, and they are some 35 feet from the floor. The upper floor of these adjacent rooms on the east side was devoted to the long gallery, but modern alterations, necessitated by constant use, have not only divided this up into a number of small rooms, but have effectually obliterated from the interior of the whole house all its Elizabethan character, except what[84] remains in the basement and in the great hall. The fine stone screen remains here, and agrees with the sketches in the Smithson drawings: the original roof is also left—an excellent specimen of Elizabethan work. It has this peculiarity, that though fashioned like an open hammer-beam roof, it supports in reality the floor of a large room over, called the Prospect Room, which occupies the upper part of the central block that forms so conspicuous a feature of the house.

It only remains to say that the house was entirely new from its foundations, and that it occupied eight years in erection. There was apparently no building here before it, although very frequently we find Elizabethan houses enveloping the remains of a humbler predecessor. The Willoughbys had lived at Wollaton for some generations previous to the building of the mansion, but their home was a house somewhere near the church. It has been suggested that the central block is earlier in date than that which surrounds it; but reflection shows that the hall must necessarily have been built in relation to the lower buildings round it. There is nothing to indicate any alterations of an older building; the detail of the central block, although different, is contemporary with that of the rest of the house, and the whole of it is shown on Thorpe’s drawing. Everything, therefore, tends to prove that the whole house was built at the same time. Duchess Cassandra tells us that the stone was brought from Ancaster, and that the same pack-horses which brought it took back Sir Francis’s coal in exchange. Notwithstanding that he got his stone for nothing, she says, and that labour was much cheaper in those days, the house cost Sir Francis £80,000.

Fig. 7. Wollaton Hall: The Orchard, Plan by Smithson.

Fig. 8. Wollaton Hall; The Screen, by Smithson.

The external treatment is of pronounced classic character, with plenty of pilasters and bold cornices. There are a number of circular niches containing busts of classic personages such as Virgil, Plato, Aristotle, and Diana. The master-workmen out of Italy were presumably familiar with these celebrities, and so might have been Mr. Robert [85]Smythson, gent., but the ordinary English workman must have been rather puzzled by them, and perhaps secretly relieved when he heard that a shipload of them had gone down, an accident that is said to account for some of the niches being empty. But, pace Duchess Cassandra, a good deal more assistance in English houses came from the Dutch than the Italians in the time of Elizabeth, and it would not be surprising if the building accounts, which are some day to be published, showed that Holland rather than Italy was the source whence some of the lower work was derived (in spite of the gondola rings which adorn the bases of some of the pilasters), as it was almost certainly the place where the curly gables of the pavilions had their origin.

The Smithson drawings, which have come to light again in recent years, are of very great interest. It is difficult to say what was their exact purpose. The elevation of the pavilion (Fig. 6) may have been drawn from the executed building. On the other hand, it may have been a development of Thorpe’s rather rough sketch. If so, it would probably be the work of Robert Smythson, and thus link him up with John; and, assuming that they were father and son, John must have preserved his father’s drawing among his own.

The plan (Fig. 5) has already been surmised to represent an idea of adding a forecourt to each front; but the levels of the ground seem to preclude the possibility of their ever having been carried out, and the drawing may be merely an exercise of fancy. In any case it appears odd to modern notions that the principal objects opposite to three of the fronts should be the stables, the dairy and laundry, and the bakehouse and brewhouse. On the fourth or entrance front there was to have been a gatehouse, which was quite a customary feature. The forecourt lying between the gatehouse and the mansion was to have been surrounded by a raised terrace or colonnade, as is indicated by the flights of steps leading up to it.

[86]

The plan of the orchard (Fig. 7) is entitled “Sur Percevalles Willoughbyes Newe Orcharde at Wollaton, Ann. Domi. 1618.” It is curious, inasmuch as the central part corresponds in outline with the plan of the house. Whether it was ever carried out or not is not known. Sir Perceval, it will be remembered, was the son-in-law and successor of Sir Francis, the builder of the house.

The drawings of the screen (Fig. 8) are of peculiar interest. There are three of them: one is the general design, differing in some respects from the actual work, and suggesting that it was the original design subsequently modified; another is a sketch for the upper carved panels between the columns (Fig. 9), and it agrees with the existing carving; the third is a sketch for the panels in the frieze above the screen (Fig. 10), and it agrees, in the main, with the actual work. All these facts point to the drawings being the originals from which the work was executed; they may, therefore, without forcing the argument, be fathered upon Robert Smythson, and they thus provide another link to connect Robert with John.

Fig. 9. Wollaton Hall: Panel in the Screen, by Smithson.

Fig. 10. Wollaton Hall: Panel in the Frieze above the Screen, by Smithson.

It is always interesting to find out who the men were who designed the old buildings which we admire so much. The houses did not grow of themselves, there were definite means employed to gain the results; and a careful study of such drawings as survive is gradually helping us to further knowledge on the subject. Several groups of men at this period seem to have been proud of their work and to have preserved their drawings. Among them were the Thorpes, father and son; the Smithsons, who for several generations (excluding Robert, who, however, seems to be taking his place in the family) were architectural designers of acknowledged ability; and Inigo Jones with his nephew and successor, John Webb. The lives of these men covered almost the whole of that interesting period in English architecture when the Italian influence was gradually transforming our methods of design. The elder Thorpe, who was already at work in 1570, saw the early stages; Inigo [87]Jones, who died in 1652, was the agent who familiarised his countrymen with the finer forms of Italian design, and established the reign of Palladianism, the effects of which lasted for more than a century and a half. The work at Wollaton represents an early step in this long development, and will always be interesting on this account alone, apart from the striking, and indeed magnificent, individuality of the house itself.

[88]

## THE ANCIENT AND MODERN TRENT
By Bernard Smith, M.A.

### The River Trent

The valley of the Trent deserves to be considered as one of the most interesting of the antiquities of the county of Nottinghamshire. When our ancestors dubbed it “The broad vale of Trent,” they unconsciously laid stress upon its width, and, in fact, rightly, because the present river Trent is a misfit—too small for the valley—a shrunken representative of that ancient stream which carved the great steep-sided trench between Nottingham and Newark.

There is something very human about the behaviour of rivers; they live and move. In their youth, and at their headwaters, they are full of energy, constantly overcoming difficulties and removing obstacles from their course. As mature streams their paths are smoother and their ways more orderly. In old age they wander lazily to the sea, often haltingly and dropping their burdens on the way. But—unlike human beings—they are constantly at work. Should their energy be greater than is required to carry their load of rock-waste, they employ it in lowering and widening their beds, and in clearing and straightening their path to the sea. If all their energy is required to carry their load they can still burrow sideways into their banks, although they cannot now cut downwards. If the load is too great they wisely drop the overburden and carry that which their strength is equal to. The power of a river should never be gauged by its work or[89] appearance at ordinary times, for tremendous vigour—out of all proportion—comes both with increase in volume and increase in pace, conditions only fulfilled when the river is in flood. Rivers, again, are more than human in the manner in which they adapt themselves to their environment. If hard rocks must be crossed they take the shortest path in a narrow gorge; if soft rocks are traversed they follow them as long as possible, meandering somewhat lazily along the path of least resistance; they thus tend to become adjusted to the texture and grain of the rocks over which they flow.

### The Ancient Trent

The history of the river Trent is intimately connected with the story of the Great Ice Age in Britain. This event—so recent from a geological standpoint—was fairly distant from the human point of view, since nearly all of the Palæolithic relics of this country date from the retreat of the ice.

Long before the Ice Age (at a time when great earth movements were taking place upon the Continent and building up the Alps) the younger rocks in the Nottinghamshire area were uplifted and tilted gently to the east, away from the older and underlying Carboniferous rocks of the Pennines, and were thus brought within the influence of destructive processes.

Rivers, running down the slope in the direction of the North Sea, began to cut deeply and form a plain, whose general surface agreed roughly with the slope of the river channels. The higher beds on the west were stripped away, because a river is more active and cuts more deeply at its head than near its mouth. Hence the original surface of the uplifted plain has gone; the new surface slopes on the whole from west to east, and the older rocks are more elevated than the younger ones.

Tributary streams, developed along north and south[90] lines in the soft belts of rock, became in time more important than the first-formed west to east streams. One of these tributaries, no doubt, working its headwaters backwards from the Humber, formed a valley in the red clays of Nottinghamshire which lie west of the Lincoln Cliff, and tapped the easterly-flowing waters, thus forming a river very similar in direction to the present Trent.

However this may be,[41] there is no sign of that river and that valley at the present day, although they were doubtless the guiding lines which eventually determined the course of the Vale.

Nottinghamshire was invaded by ice-sheets descending from the north. The direction of movement was rather from the west of north in the west of the county, and from the east of north in the south-east of the county; and as the ice advanced the rivers were naturally destroyed, partly by refrigeration, but chiefly by being invaded by ice. When the climate ameliorated the floods were let loose and the waters sought their old channels.

As the ice-front retreated it left behind it a mass of gravel which was in part washed from the ice-front by water draining the ice, and in part introduced by floods from distant sources. At the same time it is possible that much of the gravel was deposited beneath the surface of a large sheet of water; for in late-glacial times the water in this district seems to have been augmented by floods pouring into the basin from the direction of the Cheshire Plain and endeavouring to escape to the North Sea, since its escape to the Irish Sea was prevented by the Irish Sea ice. In our district it is thought that the water, finding its passage to the Humber barred by the retreating extremity of the ice-sheet, which rested against the cliff north of Lincoln and extended thence to the high ground north-west of Kelham, was forced to pour over a low gap in the hills at Lincoln.

[91]

The highest elevations between Newark and Lincoln, near Coddington, Potter’s Hill, Swinderby, Eagle, and Doddington, are capped by the gravels of late-glacial age. The Lincoln gap was then cut down; the ice had now probably retreated—although there is no direct evidence—and already opened up the way to the Humber, and a second series of gravels distributed by running waters on gently-inclined slopes of the solid formations and in hollows scoured through the older gravels. Such gravels occur near Nottingham, Radcliffe, Farndon, and Newark; and from the latter place they stretch to Winthorpe and Langford, and thence in a well-defined S-shaped belt to within one and a half miles of Lincoln. They are also found to the east of that city. The waters were again rapidly lowered and escaped by two exits—the Humber and the Lincoln Gap. Gravels formed at this stage occupy not only the floor of the present Trent valley, but below Newark spread widely over the ground to the east, abut against the well-marked terrace of the second series near Langford and Eagle, and sweep round the northern flank of the Doddington Hills to Lincoln.

The rather scanty evidence at our disposal tends to show that all these deposits were formed after the retreat of the ice, for although they rest upon boulder-clay (the ground moraine of the ice-sheet) at several points, they are never found beneath it. Between Nottingham and Newark the valley floor is almost certainly post-glacial, for, were it not so, we should expect to find boulder-clay on the valley slopes or beneath the river deposits—but such relics are wanting. The river had, however, established its present course very soon after the close of the Ice Age, because the bones of extinct mammalia—mammoth, rhinoceros, and hippopotamus—have been found in the valley deposits above Nottingham. At such a time heavy floods would occur when the winter snowfall melted in the spring, and the river and its feeders would be larger and more powerful than the present stream, which cannot lift and spread gravel over its flood plain.

[92]

Between the flood-periods the stream was choked with débris and gravel-bars, and compelled to split up into rapidly changing branches which spread the gravels far and wide. Such was the ancient Trent—a powerful flood immediately after the Ice Age, but slowly dwindling in volume and power as, in course of time, it cut deeper and deeper and sunk its valley below the level of the earlier-formed gravels, which were therefore left as terraces and flats above the level of the latest and lowest flood-plains (Fig. 1). The older gravels are probably of Palæolithic Age, although no remains of the earlier Stone Age have been found in them. Palæolithic man, however, inhabited the district, for signs of his presence have been discovered in the Creswell Caves, hence it is reasonable to expect that Palæolithic implements may eventually be discovered in some of the oldest post-glacial gravels between Nottingham, Newark, and Lincoln.

Fig. 1.

In the Idle and Leen valleys there are also gravel terraces of considerable antiquity, whose history is very similar, although somewhat shorter than those of the Trent.

### The Present River Trent

Since the accumulation of the river gravels there has been slight widening of the valley in places, but hardly any deepening. The gravels, as a rule, are spread over it from[93] side to side beneath the recent alluvium of the present enfeebled river, and the surface of the alluvial plain is at a slightly lower level than that of the gravel terraces. At ordinary times the river meanders to and fro among its ancient gravel-bars without sufficient energy to clear away all the detritus brought down to the flat by its tributaries. It rearranges the mixed sandy gravel of the old river, depositing the sand above the gravel, and placing a layer of loam, derived mainly from red Triassic rocks, upon the top of all. Thus the alluvial plain—within the old gravel plain—is built up both by lateral wandering of the river and by the floods which level up the surface.

Between Midsummer and Christmas A.D. 1346 long continued rains caused one of the most disastrous of the early recorded floods. In 1683 the bridges at Nottingham and Newark were destroyed by ice and water, due to the breaking up of a frost (which began in September, accompanied by much snow). Muskham and Holme also suffered severely. The Brampton bank (Breach Pit Bank) was broken five times previous to 1730, and again in 1824, since when a new bank has been erected. The banks near Newton and Torksey gave way in November 1770 and flooded all the lands on both sides of the Foss Dyke as far as Lincoln, flooding villages and destroying great quantities of hay and corn. Water stood several feet deep in the houses of Narrow Marsh, Nottingham. Floods also occurred in 1774 and 1790.

The great flood of Candlemas 1795 was—like that of 1683—the result of a quick thaw after a frost, which lasted from December 24, 1794, until February 9, 1795, and was accompanied by some 15 inches of snow. In Notts, as well as in Staffordshire and Derbyshire, the whole of the Trent valley was a scene of desolation, rendered more terrible by the masses of ice and melted snow carried along by the waters. The outer river bank near Spalford (the Wath Bank) burst at the south-east end of South Clifton Hill (Fig. 2), where the signs of the flood are still discernible[94] (the hollow formed, though now dry, was long filled with water). An immense breach was formed, into which 80 loads of faggots and over 400 tons of earth were dumped before it was filled up.

Fig. 2.

Sweeping across country from this gap, the water soon converted some 20,000 acres of land, west of Lincoln, into a vast lake, and only stopped here because the High Street at Lincoln was raised above the general level of the Foss Dyke. The country inundated being in those days largely composed of swamp lands (now drained and cultivated), the damage would bear no comparison to that which would be caused by a similar flood at the present day.

With one exception it entered every house in Spalford, and Girton village street was submerged 3 feet. The water rose to a height of 4 feet 6 inches on North Collingham Churchyard wall (31[95] feet 6 inches above O.D.). In Nottingham the inhabitants of Narrow Marsh were prisoners for two days and nights, the water being 3 feet deep in some places. Water also entered these houses in 1809.

A great inundation took place in 1814 after snow and frost, and thousands of acres of hay and corn were laid under water by a high flood on the 5th August 1839; whilst in November 1852, before the bank gave way near Dunham, the waters were halfway up the western wall of Collingham Churchyard and drowned Girton village street to a depth of 2 feet. At Nottingham the waters rose 14 feet 9 inches above their mean level.

In more recent times a sudden thaw produced an immense flood in January 1867, and in October 1875 thousands of acres were deluged in the Trent valley, the scene from Nottingham or Newark Castles being most remarkable, buildings, hedges, and railway lines alone appearing above the water-line. Marks registering this flood are preserved at Nottingham, Fiskerton (Trent House), Newark, Collingham, Girton,[42] and Low Marnham (the stone crosses at North[96] Muskham and Holme are said to be records of floods, but are unfortunately undated). So deep was the water that a four-oared boat was rowed by Newark Magnus boys across country to Averham and Kelham. At Low Marnham, which is entirely surrounded by a flood-bank, a great struggle took place to prevent the water from overtopping the bank and flooding the village, in which there was a valuable store of grain. When all efforts seemed to be in vain, relief came at the critical moment by the bursting of a bank near Ragnall.

This flood was at Nottingham 5½ inches higher than that of 1852, 23½ inches higher than that of July 1875, and 28 inches higher than that of a later flood in January 1877. The flood of 1795 is estimated to have been 10 inches higher than that of 1875.[43]

The severe floods of 1887, 1895, and 1901, and the recent flood which at Nottingham culminated at 6 A.M. upon the 4th December 1910, will live long in the memory of Nottinghamshire people. In the latter case incessant rains, following upon a severe snowstorm, produced a flood against which the improvements in drainage and dredging of the river bed were alike impotent. The floods continued to rise between Nottingham and Gainsborough and produced scenes unparalleled since 1875. Official figures for the height of the Trent at Trent Bridge in the recent big floods are[44]:—

October 1875 | 80.38 feet | above mean sea-level at Liverpool.
„  1901 | 79.65 feet | „  „   „   „
July 1875 | 78.46 feet | „  „   „   „
„  1895 | 78.25 feet | „  „   „   „
Yesterday (December 4, 1910) | 78.63 feet | „  „   „   „

One of the most remarkable features was the flooding of the Midland Railway line from beyond Attenborough to the [97]centre bridge of the Nottingham Midland Station. All trains between Nottingham and Trent had to plough their way for five miles through water 3 to 4 feet deep in places; every locomotive, however, got through safely. At Collingham the water rose to within less than a foot of the 1875 level, whilst it poured bodily over the flood-bank near Gainsborough.

The Great Flood of October 1875.

(View from Nottingham Castle looking South.)

It will be seen from the above account that whereas the smaller floods usually inundate the lower and recent alluvial plain, mostly meadow and pasture land, the more severe floods (e.g. 1875) cover large tracts of the higher-lying river gravels of the ancient Trent, now occupied by such villages as West Bridgford, Fiskerton, Collingham, Holme, Girton, and Dunham.

### Blown Sands

As we trace the gravels northwards from Nottingham to Newark, and thence to the Humber, the stones of which they are composed are noticed to become increasingly finer, and there is much more sand mixed with them. During the later days of the ancient Trent, when its waters kept altering their courses, the river channels, when dry, laid bare the sand, which was caught up by the prevalent winds—then, as now, blowing from the south-west. The sand was swept up on to the higher parts of the river plain, and accumulated as dunes near what is now the main road from Collingham to the north.

Although to some extent fixed in position by the growth of grasses and gorse, and partly destroyed or levelled by agricultural operations, there still remain enough dunes to give a characteristic seaside-like appearance to the district, especially near Girton and Besthorpe. It is interesting to note that, since a part of the tract has been brought into cultivation, the drifting has again commenced, the sand being piled up in the north-east corner of every arable field, and swept away from the south-west corner. The direction of the winds which formed the original dunes[98] also accounts for the nearly complete absence of blown sands on the western side of the Trent valley below Newark.

It is related that in the coaching days wheeled traffic often experienced considerable difficulty in passing along the high road near Besthorpe and Girton because of the great depth of the sand which had been blown into it from the dunes.

### Changes in the Course of the Trent

We have seen that the ancient Trent wandered freely over its gravelly flood-plain, splitting up rapidly into branches, and abruptly altering parts of its course with every flood. Nowadays, although floods still occur, the river’s course is more or less controlled by flood-banks, and the chief changes are due to the slow action of the river swinging into and undermining its bank as it sweeps round its curves; yet, even within historical times, we have records of sudden changes in course. These changes are of two classes—firstly, those in which the river has found a new channel through the old gravels; and, secondly, those in which the river has shortened its course on its present alluvium. As examples of the first class we may cite the cases of Kelham and Muskham.

Rastall, quoting from an autograph of Thomas Heron of Newark, says: “Where the main stream now runs by Kelham there was a small brook which, not being sufficient for the various purposes of the Sutton family resident there, a cut was made from the Trent to the brook which gave a turn to the whole current ... it then forced its way and formed that channel which is now seen. There were carriage bridges over the brook at Kelham and Muskham ... and they were obliged to build bridges over the new and extended river.” This probably occurred before 1225, because tolls were at that date collected at Kelham Bridge.

According to Dickinson and Throsby, the hamlet of[99] Holme was attached to the parish of North Muskham, until the Trent, in A.D. 1600, separated the two places during a high flood (Fig. 3). Saxton’s map, however, published about 1576, shows Holme already cut off. A will of Stephen Surflett, of the same date, leaves land for the maintenance of the water-bank at Holme; it is therefore probable that the change took place in Surflett’s lifetime. The alluvium between Muskham and Holme is three times the width of the stream, whilst that at Kelham is no wider than the river itself; but whereas the Kelham cut was nearly straight, that at Holme must have followed a winding course: subsequent movement of the meanders down stream would account for the greater width of the alluvial strip. An old man living at Holme last century remembered a barge sinking in the river on a spot, now an orchard, 100 yards from the stream.

Fig. 3.—The Trent separating Holme from North Muskham.

The stippled areas are gravel.

[100]

Changes in course on the recent alluvium have taken place sometimes by artificial means, but usually in a natural manner.

The Nottingham Borough Records for 1392 give an account of a “Process against the Lord of Colwick for obstructing the course of the Trent,” the substance of which is that William de Colwick, Knight, and one Richard Byron, Knight, and others, have diverted the waters of Trent from its ancient course at Over Colwick into a trench, by which a portion of the said water of Trent formerly held its course, by planting obstructions, such as willows and piles. The water totally left its former course and ran by the aforesaid trench to the mill in Over Colwick, where a closed “wear” was made. The former course, about 1¾ miles in length, between the village of Adbolton and the village of Over Colwick, was destroyed and filled up by sand, willows, and other obstructions, so that ships could not come up the river to Nottingham for nine years.

In judgment the “wear” and all other nuisances were ordered to be cast down and removed. The mill-weir was apparently destroyed, but the water held to the diverted course (i.e. the trench by which a portion of the said water of Trent formerly held its course). The ancient course is the Old Trent now defining parts of the boundaries of Colwick and the Borough of Nottingham. In some manuscript notes from the “Perambulation of the Forest of Sherwood [31st Queen Elizabeth]”, by Launcelott Rolston and others, it is stated that the boundary “ascendeth by the River of Trent, by the Abbey of Shelforde wch is on the Southe pte of the Trente, and above the same Abbey it doth followe the ould course and streame of the Trente whch there is dryven of the north pte from its ould course and so ascendeth still to Collwicke by the River of Trente and so to Nottingham Bridge.” The above-mentioned “old course” is still traceable to the west and south-west of Shelford.

Instead of passing Kelham, as at present, the Trent,[101] or a branch of it, formerly passed Newark some 345 yards distant from the castle, and joined the Devon below the town. This Old Trent, now a mere trickle in a narrow winding valley, separates the hundred of Newark from that of Thurgarton. Above Newark an artificial cut connects the Old Trent with the Devon, which, after flowing beneath the castle, joins the Trent at Crankley Point 1½ miles down stream. The arrangement is shown in an old map of 1558 in C. Brown’s History of Newark.

At some unrecorded date the stream has cut off from Carlton parish a field upon which the villagers still exercise right of pasturing cattle. This field, Carlton Home, by its uneven surface, appears to have been formed by lateral movement of the river; the old flood-bank may have fixed the parish boundary (Fig. 2).

Sutton South Holme was an island in 1834; a part of the western stream-course still exists as a long pool. Across the river, and belonging to Sutton, is Smithy (Smeemus) Marsh, a pasture some 120 acres in extent. A bank, ditch, and the parish boundary on the east fix the site of the Old Trent, which changed its course before the date of Saxton’s map.

South of Clifton Hill, east of the Trent, an old meandering course, more than a mile long, cuts off a piece of ground known as “The Ropes.” This old course is probably of great antiquity, because it was the boundary of four parishes; it was once half the width of the Trent (Fig. 2). Other old courses may be seen on Marnham Holme, Fledborough Holme, and under Newton Cliff. The island south of Dunham Bridge, shown on maps from 1794–1834, was shaped like an inverted Welsh harp. The river invaded a neighbouring drainage-channel at the turn of a meander, which has since progressed down stream, as shown by the necessity for a new tow-path bank.

Old and deserted meandering channels and dying pools occur in such numbers on the recent alluvium that the conclusion is forced upon us that, without embankments,[102] the valley would rapidly revert to a state of wildness similar to those of the rivers of young countries (e.g. the Mississippi Valley, where channels and pools occur in great numbers).

Evidences of recent lateral movement are extremely numerous; the example at Holme given above is a case in point. Roman pottery occurs in the gravel on the west bank above the site of the Roman bridge near Cromwell, where the river runs straight; and a block of dressed Blue-Lias stone was recently found here upon the site of the new lock, at least 25 feet from the present (river) bank. Again, in A.D. 1649 a field, situated beyond the Trent, but in Collingham parish, once of 35 acres, had been reduced to 8 acres by encroachment.

Near the “Crankleys,” about a mile north of Newark, an old loop of the Trent forms a curved “ox-bow” lake. This loop appears as a right-angled bend in a map (revised and published in 1725) drawn up by the chief engineer of the Scottish army besieging Newark in 1646. It also appears in Chapman’s map of 1774. In 1861 the Great Northern Railway was carried across the then well-developed loop, and to facilitate operations the bridge was first built upon the neck of the loop and the river diverted to a new channel cut across the neck beneath the bridge. Human remains, of Neolithic Age, with antlers of deer and bones of ox and horse, were found beneath the bridge at a depth of 25 feet, having been deposited in the bed of the river when it happened to be flowing at that spot. By lateral movement of the river the remains were entombed until thus brought to light.

The lateral movement and windings of the “smug and silver Trent” were evidently well known to Shakespeare, for in King Henry IV., Part I., Hotspur and Glendower are warmly debating about one of the meanders north of Burton. Hotspur suggests straightening the river’s course, but Glendower will not have it altered. The meander referred to is apparently one of the abandoned “rounds” near Burton and Bole, nearly opposite Gainsborough. In Shakespeare’s time[103] they would have been much more like huge half-moons—to use Hotspur’s expression—than like circles, such as Burton Round.

Fig. 4.—Burton and Bole Rounds, after a map by Mr. Gurnill, Sen., Gainsborough, 1795.

By 1790 the necks of the loops were almost severed, and in February 1792 the Bole Round was breached by the river, possibly aided by the Trent bore or “ægir”—an event celebrated three years later by a Mr. Gurnill, senior, of Gainsborough, who published a map (a copy is in the possession of Mr. J. S. Lamb, of Beckingham) showing that the other loop (Burton) would soon suffer the same fate. The first vessel to pass through the breach was the property of Mr. James Cuttle, of Lincoln. White’s Directory of Nottinghamshire for 1832 states that “Until 1797 the Trent here (Burton) took such a circular sweep that a boatman might have thrown his hat on shore, and, after sailing two miles, have taken it up again, but in that year the stream forced itself through the narrow neck of land in a straight line, in consequence of which the old winding channel was filled up and divided betwixt the counties of Nottingham and Lincoln, besides which the[104] latter had now about one hundred acres on the west side of the course of the present river.” Both rounds have recently been transferred to Nottinghamshire, and remain as swampy hollows in Burton and Bole parishes, whose boundaries they partly define.

Dr. Wake and others assume that the floods are efforts of the Trent to regain its old channel, now occupied by the Fleet stream, which is undoubtedly a part of the old river (Figs. 2 and 3). Between Langford and Girton there is a low westerly-facing cliff or terrace of gravel and sand, beneath which the Fleet stream flows from Winthorpe to join the Trent near Girton. The relations between the cliff and the alluvial flat make it clear that the Trent has worked along different parts of the cliff at one time or another. The expansions at Langford, Besthorpe, and Girton, and formerly at North and South Collingham, must also be regarded as relics of the old Trent; but whether it flowed beneath the whole length of the gravel cliff at one and the same time is an open question.

The river has certainly moved from east to west, and is still doing so, having on its right hand a well-dissected gravel plain, on its left an unbroken sheet of gravel upon which it tends to encroach. It first left the Wath Bank (Spalford) at some time before 900 A.D., according to Wake, when the hundreds were defined; deserted the Fleet Mere between the tenth and sixteenth centuries, and lastly separated Holme from Muskham. There were possibly also intermediate stages when the river cut through from North Collingham to Carlton Rack, and when the Kelham parish boundary was crossed.

Thus the old story is repeated. The ancient waters flowed directly from Newark to Lincoln, then some of them fell away to the west to find exit by the Humber. Now the river flows in a northerly direction, but is edging to the west side of its valley—an effect probably due to freer egress through the remarkably narrow gap between the Keuper hills of Marnham and South Clifton, which would[105] tend to shorten and straighten the course as far south as Kelham and Averham.

The Trent has from very early times been a means of communication and a highway. Domesday Book records that the water of Trent was kept so that if any should hinder the passage of boats he should make amends. Henry I. gave the Bishop of Lincoln permission to erect a bridge at Newark, “so that it may not hurt my city of Lincoln nor my borough of Nottingham.” Acts of Parliament relating to the navigation were passed between 1699 and 1794, and troubles about weirs arose as early as 1292. These and other instances mentioned above show that importance was attached to the control of the waters from fairly early times.

The Trent is supposed to be a tamed river. Its banks are fortified by flood-banks, piles, stones, cement, and even sunken barges; yet it persists in meandering. As fast as it undermines the flood-bank, the latter is repaired from the outside, hence the river, as it were, pushes the outer flood-bank before it when vigorously swinging outwards, but leaves the inner bank isolated by deposit of sediment. A second or inner bank then becomes necessary to carry the tow-path. Again, if the natural swing of the river is tampered with, it retaliates by readjusting its course below the point of interference. Thus, although tamed, the river under certain conditions has its own way, and never in more striking manner than when, overlapping its flood-banks, it bursts its bonds and surges far and wide over the broad Vale of Trent.[45]

[106]

## THE FOREST OF SHERWOOD
By Rev. J. Charles Cox, LL.D., F.S.A.

There is abundant evidence that the central and western parts of the county of Nottingham was well wooded in the earliest historical times. It was otherwise with the eastern or Clay division of the shire. Among other evidences of this may be mentioned the place-names, a single example of which may be here noticed. The terminal “field”—which is usually spelt feld in olden times—signified a place where trees had been felled, so as to make a clearing for cultivation. Such place-names are invariably to be found in the western half of the shire, as at Ashfield, Balkfield, Basingfield, Eastfield, Farnsfield, Haggonfield, Highfield, Lynsfield, Mansfield, Northfield, Plumfield, Southfield, Wilfield, and a score or two of others which will be found marked on the larger ordnance maps. Such names are looked for in vain on the eastern side of the county.

This well-timbered portion of Nottinghamshire probably served as a great hunting district for the later Saxon kings, and is well known to have been thus used in the earliest Norman days. It is, perhaps, hardly necessary to emphasise the fact that the old term “forest” had no particular connection with woods, great or small. The word was used for many centuries to denote a wild district reserved for the hunting of royalty, or of those specially licensed by the Crown, which was placed under special legislation in order to preserve the deer. Such tracts of country always included a certain amount of woodland or undergrowth, which served as shelter or covert for the[107] larger game; but it was equally essential that there should be open glades and stretches of moorland for the feeding and general sustenance of the deer. Neither red nor fallow deer could possibly live in a district exclusively woodland. Many of these royal forests had but a scanty amount of timber of any kind, such as the western forests of Exmoor and Dartmoor, or the central forest of the High Peak, where the red deer used to swarm in almost fabulous numbers. Of all the royal forests of England, Sherwood, on the contrary, seems to have been exceptionally abundant in timber, and hence the red deer were not nearly so numerous at any time in her history as in the wilder parts of Derbyshire. The Forest of Sherwood, or Nottingham as it was sometimes called, probably gained its name of Shirewode or Shirwood from the fact that a considerable length of the forest boundary was also the boundary between the two shires of Derby and Nottingham.

The Forest of Sherwood embraced at one time upwards of a fourth of the whole county. The Doomsday Survey shows that not a few of the places which were afterwards within the forest limits were members of the King’s great manor of Mansfield; hence it became a comparatively easy matter for the early Norman kings to extend this large amount of royal demesne into a large forest. The first precise historic notice of the forest occurs in the year 1154, when William Peverel the younger had it in his control and held the profits under the Crown. On the forfeiture of the Peverel estates, in the early days of Henry II., Sherwood Forest lapsed to the King, and it was for some time administered by the successive sheriffs of the joint counties of Nottingham and Derby. In the days of Richard I., Sherwood was held by his brother John, Earl of Morton. John made a charter grant of all the liberties and custody of the Forest of Sherwood to Maud de Caux and her husband Ralph Fitzstephen. This charter included permission to hunt hare, fox, wild cat, and squirrel, with dogs[108] and hounds; the right to all cablish or wind-fallen wood; the valuable inner bark or bast of the lime trees; a skep (basket) out of every cartload of salt passing through the forest, and half a skep for a half load; the pannage dues for pigs; the fees for unlawed dogs; and also all goods and chattels belonging to “brybours” taken by them without the forest. Bribour was a mid-English term for a robber or pickpocket. The charter also sanctioned the holding of a park at Laxton by Ralph and Maud, wherein they might hunt deer without molestation by the forest ministers.

This definite mention of robbers, whose presence was evidently not uncommon within the dense thickets and woodlands of Sherwood towards the close of the twelfth century, is instantly suggestive of the name of the world-famous Robin Hood. Although this great ballad hero is pretty closely associated in legend and tradition with the north of Yorkshire and other parts of England, he is emphatically the outlawed chieftain of the glades of Sherwood. There are but few English-speaking youths who have not revelled in the tales of Robin Hood, with Little John, Friar Tuck, Will Scarlet, and his other lawless associates, and more particularly in their delightful adventures with the Sheriff of Nottingham, and other purse-proud travellers. Although it is always admitted that Robin Hood was an outlaw and a robber, the reason why he has gained such well-merited fame is on account of the whole garland of ballads always representing him as an advocate of humane though socialistic principles and a protector of the oppressed. As Drayton sings in his Polyolbion, at the close of the sixteenth century:—

“From wealthy abbots’ chests and churches’ abundant store
What oftentimes he took he shared among the poor;
No lordly bishop came in lusty Robin’s way,
To him, before he went, but for his pass must pay;
The widows in distress he graciously relieved,
And remedied the wrongs of many a virgin grieved.”

[109]

Up to the present no earlier mention of this hero has been found than that which is contained in the Vision of Piers Plowman, written about 1377, wherein the character of sloth is introduced saying:—

“I can noughte perfitly my paternoster, as the prest it syngeth;
But I can rymes of Robyn hood and Randolf erle of Chestre.”

In the next century the references are fairly numerous, the most interesting of which is a petition to Parliament in 1439 complaining that one Piers Venables of Derbyshire, after rescuing a prisoner, had assembled unto him many misdoers and “in manure of insurrection weinte into the wodes in that countrie like as it hadde be Robyn Hode and his meyne.”

The ballads pertaining to Robin Hood were so esteemed by our forefathers, that one of the earliest ventures of printing in England was the issuing by Winken de Worde, about 1495, of a sheaf of these rhymed stories under the title A Lyttel Geste of Robyn Hode.

A few learned pedants have ingeniously argued that Robin Hood was but a visionary being, his very name, according to a German critic, being but a corruption of Woden, whilst Mr. Sydney Lee has come to the conclusion that he was but a “mythical forest elf.” Doubtless a variety of legends of widely differing dates have centred round this Sherwood hero which could not possibly pertain to the same individual, but it is impossible to believe that there was not a real outlaw of this name who gained this almost immortal celebrity. More or less ingenious attempts have been made to identify him exactly with some particular epoch or individual; but most of these attempts, such as that of Mr. Hunter in 1854, who thought that he had found him under the guise of a porter of Nottingham Castle in the time of Edward II., are put forth regardless of the fact that Hood was, as is now the case, a fairly common name, and Robert (with its diminutive Robin)[110] was about the third favourite Christian name in all England. There is no room here to debate this matter at any length, but on the whole the probabilities are strong that the original Robin Hood flourished in the days of Richard Cœur de Lion.

At all events, it is quite impossible to dissociate Sherwood from thoughts of Robin Hood, and for our own part we feel satisfied that the weight of evidence is strongly in favour of the reality of his existence, although a modern poet says:—

“Sherwood in the twilight is Robin Hood awake?
Gray and ghostly shadows are gliding through the brake:
Shadows of the dappled deer dreaming of the morn,
Dreaming of the shadowy man that winds the shadowy horn.”

Those who make a careful study of the old royal forest districts of England, should always refer to the details respecting the tremendous storm that swept over England in the winter of 1222, which are to be found in the Close and Patent Rolls of that date. Trees were overthrown in every part of the kingdom in such vast numbers that the old customs, whereby, for the most part, wind-fallen boughs or root-fallen trees were the perquisites of forest ministers, were suspended, and special writs were issued to the authorities directing the sale of all this overthrown timber with a return of the proceeds. Writs to this effect were forwarded to the verderers and foresters of the Forest of Sherwood; to the like officials of the enclosures or parks within Sherwood; to Maud de Caux, then a widow, as keeper of the Forest of Sherwood and of Clay; and to Philip Marc, as “keeper of the parks of Sherwood.” The title of “keeper of Sherwood and Clay” was a survival of the time when the districts, under the then cruelly severe forest laws, had been much extended by Henry II. and John. At that time a considerable part of the Clay division in the north-east of the shire, as well as in the northern part of Hatfield above Worksop, had been declared forest; but the great Charter of John,[111] and the forest charter of the boy-king, Henry III., restored these parts to the common lord of the land. The earliest extant perambulation of Sherwood, of the year 1232, closely coincides with the still more precise perambulation of the year 1300. The forest was at that time, roughly speaking, twenty miles in length by eight in breadth. At the one extremity was the county town of Nottingham, and at another was Mansfield, whilst Worksop was close to the northern boundary. In other words, the forest contained approximately 100,000 acres, or about a fifth of the whole shire. These bounds were still maintained according to a perambulation of 30 Henry VIII., but the forest began to be broken up before the close of the sixteenth century.

Maud de Caux died in the year after the great storm, and as the office of keeper was hereditary, according to the charter of the Earl of Morton, she was succeeded by her son John de Birkin, and he in his turn by his son Thomas de Birkin. In 1231 the office came to Robert de Everingham, in right of his wife, Isabel, daughter and heiress of Thomas. His grandson, Robert de Everingham the younger, forfeited his keepership in 1286, owing to the grievous abuse of his position as keeper of the King’s deer; he was imprisoned for some time in Nottingham gaol for venison trespass. After his disgrace, the position of chief forester or keeper of Sherwood was granted to various persons of high position as a mark of royal favour, but it was no longer hereditary and usually held at will.

Among the vast store of forest proceedings in the Public Record Office, in Chancery Lane, is an exceptional amount pertaining to this important Nottingham forest. Some attempts have been made at analysing this information, and in occasionally setting forth certain details; but the story of Sherwood Forest yet remains to be written, and if done in any satisfactory fashion, might be readily extended to several volumes of the size of the one in which this essay[112] appears. It would not be difficult to make such a record full of interesting and valuable information from end to end.

The most fascinating of these records is the full story of the various forest offences which came to light when the Forest Pleas or Eyres, presided over by the King’s justices, were held at Nottingham. These courts, originally supposed to be held every seven years, were in reality summoned at much longer and fitful intervals. The earliest of these of which details are extant was held in 1251, when the forest was divided into three keepings or wards, each of which had their own verderers, foresters and agisters, the last of whom regulated the pasturage and the pannage of pigs permitted within the ward. At the Eyre of 1267, several hundred vert offences were brought before the court for damage to the growing timber. The most serious of these presentments was with regard to the Abbot of Rufford, who was charged with having felled four hundred and eighty-three oaks for building purposes since the last Eyre; but the abbot was able to plead successfully a charter of Henry II. as justifying his action. It does not appear that the justices held another Forest Court until 1286–87. It was then set forth that in the previous year there had been a grievous outbreak of murrain amongst the deer, both red and fallow, from which three hundred and fifty had perished. On this occasion Sir William de Vescy and his two brother-justices laid down a variety of special injunctions to be observed in the future administration of Sherwood. Among these it may be mentioned that any dweller in the forest felling a green tree was to be attached (summoned) for the next attachment court, there to find bail till the next Eyre, and to pay the price to the verderers; for a second offence he was to be dealt with in a like manner, but for a third offence he was to be imprisoned at Nottingham, and there be kept until delivered by the King or a justice of the forest. Any one dwelling outside the forest cutting any kind of green wood, was at once to be committed to prison until delivered by the [113]warrant of the King or forest justice; but for a third offence he was also to forfeit his horses and cart, or his oxen and waggon.

Specimen of Sherwood Forest Roll.

Among other injunctions, it was laid down that the verderers were to assemble every forty days, in accordance with the charter of the forest, to hold Attachment Courts for vert and venison, and other small pleas. There is abundant evidence that this Forty-Day Court, also known as the Attachment Court, and sometimes as a “Swaynmote,” was held by the verderers with much regularity for a long period in Sherwood. These courts were usually held at four different centres, viz., at Calverton, Edwinstowe, Linby, and Mansfield, on successive days of the same week. The Roll of 1292–93 shows that green oak was usually valued at 6d., a dry oak at 4d., a sapling from 1d. to 3d., and a stubb, or dry trunk of a pollarded tree at 2d. These local courts also took cognisance of beast trespassing, the usual fine being 1d. for a straying cow or stirk, and 3d. for five sheep.

The Close Rolls bear abundant evidence of the generosity of successive sovereigns in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries with royal gifts of both timber and venison from the stores of Sherwood. We may take as an example of such royal gifts those made by Henry III. from different parts of Sherwood between the years 1231 and 1234. The venison during this period included three roes to Robert de Lexington; three bucks and four does to the Earl of Huntingdon; five bucks and twenty does to the Bishop of Carlisle for his park at Melbourne; three bucks to the Dean of St. Martin’s, London; six bucks to Walter de Evermuth; two bucks and eight does to Hugh Despenser; a buck to John, son of Geoffrey; two harts to John de Stuteville; two bucks to Robert de Hareston; seven bucks to the Bishop of Carlisle; five bucks to William of York; three bucks to William Bardolph; five bucks and a hart to William de Albini; and ten bucks to the Bishop of Lincoln.

During the same period the gifts of wood included five[114] oaks to Gilbert Spigurnel, to make a mill; five oaks and thirty tie-beams to the chaplain of Hugh de Burgh; thirty oaks to the Priory of Lenton, for the works of their church; twenty oaks to Brian de Insula; five lime trees to the Franciscan Friars of Nottingham to make their stalls; thirty oaks to the Dean of St. Martin’s, London, for timber for his chancel at Elm; forty rafters to Brother Robert de Dyva; ten oaks to Robert Lupus; and fifteen oaks to William de Albini, for making rafters.

In connection with timber, it may be mentioned that a great provision of wood was made from Sherwood early in the year 1316, when the Parliament was held at Lincoln. The Archbishop of York’s great wood at Blidworth was at that time in the King’s hands, as the see was vacant, and Edward II. ordered the forest-keeper to deliver to the sheriff fifty leafless oaks out of that wood, to be used for making charcoal, and for boards for trestle tables. Thirty oaks from parts of the forest near the Trent were to be despatched to Nottingham for firewood in the King’s hall against the ensuing Parliament, and thirty more for the King’s chambers. It should always be remembered in connection with woods in private ownership within royal forests, that there was no power of felling timber or cutting wood, save for immediate personal use, without a direct warrant. Thus, in 1316, it is entered on the Close Rolls that Edward II. authorised Ralph de Crumbwell to fell and sell as he pleased twenty acres of his wood at Lambley within Sherwood Forest, as a compensation for his losses when engaged in the King’s service in Scotland.

A particularly interesting and exceptional use of the excellent timber of this forest occurs on the Close Rolls towards the end of the year 1323–24, when an expedition was about to be undertaken into the Duchy of Aquitaine. The Sheriff of Nottingham and his carpenters were instructed to procure as many oaks and other suitable trees out of the forest, as were necessary for the construction of nine springalds and a thousand quarels. Springalds were military[115] engines of the catapult kind, whilst quarels were a heavy form of arrows with iron heads which these engines discharged.

Continuing a brief account of some of the more important circumstances with regard to the timber of Sherwood, it may be mentioned that at the Forest Pleas of 1334, the Roll of amercements of persons convicted of vert trespass at the Attachment Courts at more than fourpence (which could only be amerced at the Eyre), embraced upwards of seven hundred and fifty trespassers, varying in value from sixpence for green boughs or dry trunks, to two shillings for a single oak. These values had been paid to the verderers at the time when the Attachment Court had been held; the additional fines imposed by the justices varied from one to two shillings. This list of vert trespasses is after all not a very serious one, when it is remembered that it was about half a century since the last Eyre had been held. In the following century the supreme courts of the justices were held with almost equal rarity, and by the time of Henry VII. the complaints as to the gradual destruction of the oaks of Sherwood, both young and old, became numerous.

The general custom which prevailed in most of England’s royal forests, of the tenants within the jurisdiction being permitted to use wood for the repair or rebuilding of their houses, for the construction of hedges, and for the purposes of fuel, obtained throughout Sherwood. At the last regular Eyre, held in 1538, the justices made two special orders affecting the forest timber, namely, that no hedgebote nor firebote was to be taken by the tenants themselves, but only by the deliverance of the woodward, nor any housebote without the deliverance of the keeper as well as the woodward; and in the second place it was ordered that no one was to fell any even of his own wood for any intent “without the especiall lycense of the kynge his highnesse, or the justice of the foreste, and that none from hencesforthe do take aine woode for bleaching.”

[116]

An exact inventory of the trees of the most valuable part of this forest was taken in the year 1609. There were at that time 21,009 oak trees in Birkland, and 28,900 in Bilhagh; but the majority of them are described as being past maturity. In August 1624 a most destructive forest fire occurred, arising from some carelessness in the preparation of charcoal. This fire spread rapidly over an area four miles in length by one and a half in breadth. The abatement of the wind, and the trenches dug by a whole army of men with spades, picks, and shovels, happily checked the fire just as it was approaching the great wood which then stretched from Mansfield to Nottingham.

Both trees and venison suffered severely during the disturbances that preceded the establishment of the Commonwealth. During the days of Oliver Cromwell, and with still greater frequency at subsequent dates, a considerable number of Sherwood oaks were felled for the navy. Various other grants for exceptional purposes on a large scale contributed to the rapid reduction of the forest timber. Thus, in 1680, the inhabitants of Edwinstowe were permitted to fell 200 oaks in Birkland and Bilhagh for the repair of their parish church, which had been seriously damaged by the fall of the spire. In 1686, the oak trees of this part of the forest, including a number that were hollow or decayed, only totalled 37,316, and by 1790 they were still further reduced to 10,117.

“From 1683 onwards, the area of the forest was being constantly curtailed; and in that year 1270 acres out of the hays of Bilhagh and the White Lodge, were sold to the Duke of Kingston to be enclosed within his park of Thoresby. At the beginning of the next century, about 3000 acres of the previous open forest were impaled to protect the deer under the auspices of the Duke of Newcastle, who was their keeper; this was called the New Park, and is now known as Clumber Park. Between 1789 and 1796 inclusive, Acts were passed for the enclosure of Arnold Forest, Basford Forest, Sutton in Ashfield Forest, Kirkby in Ashfield Forest,[117] and Lenton and Radford Forest, whereby 8248 acres were brought into cultivation. When Major Rooke published his interesting Sketch of the Ancient and Present State of Sherwood Forest in 1799, the parts of the forest that still remained to the Crown were the hays of Birkland and Bilhagh, which had a total extent of 1487 acres.”[46]

A most notable use of the grand oaks of Sherwood occurred in the days of Charles II., when the largest and most substantial of the beams used in the construction of the new St. Paul’s, by Sir Christopher Wren, came from this district. The papers at Welbeck Abbey include a letter from the great architect, of April 4, 1695, addressed to the steward of the Duke of Newcastle. Therein he states the measurements of the “great Beames” which he then required. They were to be “47 ft. long, 13 inches at the small end, of growing timber and as near as can be without sap.”

Though the glories of Sherwood as a vast open forest land have long since passed away, there is still much fine timber to be noted on the old forest stretches of Birkland and Bilhagh, as well as a few noble groups of ancient oaks, as at Haywood, near Blidworth. Within, too, the present five deer parks of the county, all of which were within the forest confines in ancient days—namely, the parks of Thoresby, Welbeck, Rufford, Wollaton, and Annesley—portions of the ancient forest timber undoubtedly remain. In some cases the relics of the grand old oaks are but shattered fragments of their original magnificence. The Methuselah of the forest, the Greendale oak in Welbeck Park, would have perished long ago had it not been for the extreme care taken to prop and bind up its shattered members; but it still possesses considerable vitality. In 1724 the great gap hollowed through its centre by age and decay was cut away to such a height and width that “a carriage and six, with cocked-hat coachman on the box,[118] drove through the tree with the bride of the noble owner; three horsemen riding abreast were able to pass through, a feat which has been often accomplished.” Several of the greater and more venerable oaks in other parts of the forest have had fanciful names assigned to them, perpetuated during recent years by means of picture postcards; but these titles are for the most part of recent origin. Such are the Major Oak, the Parliament Oak, and the Shambles Oak.

The deer of Sherwood were of three kinds—red, fallow, or roe. The roe deer seem never to have been numerous, and they died out at a comparatively early date, not finding sufficient quietude owing to the nearness of Nottingham, Mansfield, and other fairly populous places. These small timid deer require a considerable amount of rarely-disturbed covert, and Sherwood, notwithstanding its extent, was intersected by a frequency of roads and byroads. At the Eyre of 1288, there was a single presentment for killing a roebuck.

The red deer were undoubtedly indigenous to this and other parts of England, and roamed at large throughout the forest. The royal gifts of Sherwood deer made by Henry III. and the first three Edwards, consisted mainly of fallow deer; but it need not be considered from this that the red deer were few or far between, because the fallow deer were so much more easily killed or taken alive within the parks where they were sustained. The majority of cases of venison, as recorded in the presentments at the different Eyres, were also concerned with fallow deer; but a fair number of venison transgressors, particularly in the case of those of good position, were summoned for hunting the wild red deer. Thus, in 1334, Lord John Grey was found running a herd of hinds with six greyhounds at Bestwood, of which he killed two; and at the same court Henry Curzon of Breadsall was fined for killing a hind at Clipstone. At various different dates in the fourteenth century, royal releases from prison were granted to offenders who[119] had been caught hunting the red deer. It may here be noted, as it is often forgotten, that the terms for red deer are harts and hinds, whilst the fallow deer are described as bucks and does. The survival at the present day in this county of eleven public-houses which bear the sign of the White Hart is an indirect evidence of the former number of the wild deer; there is also a single instance of a White Hind. This may appear to be a confusion of terms, but from the earliest days there were occasional instances of white harts and hinds, as at the present time among red deer.[47]

The fallow deer were as a rule kept within parks, though, of course, they naturally strayed at times into the open parts of the forest. The two oldest of the hays or parks of Sherwood were those of Clipstone and Bestwood, and there were also those of Birkland, Linby, and Welby, as early as the days of Henry III.

Among venison offenders it was not at all unusual to find the secular clergy. Thus, at the Eyre of 1334, the rector of Annesley and the vicar of Edwinstowe were among the culprits, and fully a score of other beneficed offenders were presented at different dates. Popular notions, encouraged by more or less scurrilous ballads, have long ago marked down the monks and canons of the religious orders as prime offenders in this respect; but the forest Rolls, which cannot lie, in Sherwood as elsewhere, prove the very small basis upon which such charges rest. “Throughout the length and breadth of England, in the extant forest documents extending over several centuries, only four or five charges of[120] venison trespass against the religious have been found, and about a like number for the receipt of venison, or the harbouring of forest offenders. It is not to be understood that the examination has been quite thorough, save of a certain number of forests; but it is highly improbable that the charges against monks or canons regular, if the search was exhaustive, could not be counted on the fingers of both hands. And yet at the same time the charges against rectors, vicars, or parochial chaplains, and the heavy fines, sometimes exceeding a whole year’s income, are fairly common. No charges have been noticed against the monks of Rufford or the canons of Newstead, though they were in the very midst of Sherwood; and yet there was hardly a parish pertaining to that forest whose vicar or rector was not, at some time, convicted of deer-slaying with bow and arrows, or with greyhounds.”[48]

When the sixteenth century is reached, definite statistics can usually be found as to the number of deer in the various royal forests of England. Henry VIII. appointed a commission in 1531, to view and certify the number of the deer in the forest and parks of Sherwood. The red deer at that date numbered 4280, and the fallow deer 1131. The red deer ranged throughout the forest, with the exception of some 200 in Bestwood Park. The fallow deer were within the four parks of Bestwood, Clipstone, Nottingham, and Thorney. Another less detailed return of 1538 of all the deer in the King’s forests and parks north of the Trent, gives the number of red deer in Sherwood Forest as about 1000; in Bestwood Park, 700 fallow and 140 red; in Clipstone, 60 fallow and 20 red; in Gringley, 150 fallow.

Queen Elizabeth, in 1599, granted the keepership of the forest district of Thorneywood, to the north of Nottingham, to John Stanhope, with licence to hunt, chase, and kill the deer, provided he always found a hundred head for the use of the Queen.

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A considerable amount of detailed information with regard to the rapidly lessening area of Sherwood Forest, from this date down to 1793, is to be found in the Fourteenth Report of Woods and Forests which was issued at the latter date. In 1616, it was reported that there were 1263 red deer in Sherwood Forest, in addition to those in Thorneywood; another estimate of 1635 made the total 1367. A very large number of the royal deer not unnaturally disappeared during the Commonwealth days. In 1661, considerable expenses were incurred by the transporting of both red and fallow deer from Germany to restock the forests of Sherwood and Windsor.

Charles II., in 1662, did his best to revive the forest laws of Sherwood, and appointed his faithful friend William, Earl of Mansfield and Marquis of Newcastle (afterwards known as the loyal duke) to act as Lord Chief Justice in Eyre. The business before this revived Forest Court was so complicated, and required so much legal investigation, that, though opened at Mansfield in February 1662–63, the proceedings were not concluded until 1676; they provided a right royal harvest for the lawyers and attorneys. Claims to special privileges were put forward by a great variety of persons, including the Archbishop of York and divers others, such as Sir George Savile of Rufford and Lord Byron of Newstead, who had succeeded to properties wrenched from monastic hands. Hosts of minor claimants came from all parts of the forest and its surroundings, pleading privileges that pertained in old days to particular townships or parishes. Some of these humbler folk were unable to resist the attractions of the game as they traversed the old forest grounds; thus one Thomas Cotton, a blacksmith of Edwinstowe, was convicted of shooting a hart when actually journeying to attend this court. He was fined 40s., and had to obtain a bondsman for £40 for his good conduct during the twelve months.

In 1708 a strongly worded petition was drawn up at Rufford by representative gentlemen of the north of the[122] county, addressed to the Crown, complaining of the grievous and almost intolerable burden under which the landowners laboured by reason of the increase during late years of the red deer in the Forest of Sherwood. They complained that so many of the woods had been granted or given away by the Queen’s predecessors, that but little harbour remained for the deer in the forest, and that the deer in consequence were scattered about in the county eating up corn and grass; that their tenants in severe weather had often to watch all night to keep the deer off; that their servants were terrified by new keepers, who threaten them if they so much as set a little dog at the deer. At the same time another general petition to the like effect obtained 400 influential signatures. It was therein stated that the red deer had recently increased from 300 to 900, and that their chief depredations were carried on “in the district called Hatfield and the whole district of the Clay,” which were parts of the county outside the forest limits. These petitions met with no favour at the hands of the Crown; it was argued that to attempt to stint the number of deer through Parliament would be detracting from the Queen’s liberties and rights.

The forest, however, was far from being a source of profit during Anne’s reign. There were four well-paid “forest keepers” and four “deputy forest rangers”; the winter hay for the deer averaged £100 a year; whilst £1000 a year was granted to maintain the deer and the new park at Clumber, and to hunt with two horsemen, forty couple of hounds, eleven horses, and four grooms.

Reports presented to the Commissioners of Woods and Forests in 1793 showed that there were then no deer in the forest save in Thorney Woods, of which Lord Chesterfield was keeper. But evidence was given to the effect that there were a great many deer in Birkland and Bilhagh until about 1770, when they were killed off, with the assistance of the inhabitants, by the Dukes of Newcastle and Kingston, and in a short time the value of the forest farms[123] had materially increased, and the wheat fields no longer needed to be guarded by horns in the daytime and by fires at night.

Though the glories of Sherwood as a vast open forest district have long since passed away, several noble parks occupy some of its choicest portions. Five of these parks are stocked with deer—namely, Thoresby (Earl Manvers), Welbeck (Duke of Portland), Rufford (Lord Savile), Wollaton (Lord Middleton), and Annesley (J. P. Chaworth Musters, Esq.). The first two of these have herds of red as well as of fallow deer. It is quite possible that some of these may fairly claim to be the descendants of those which used to roam at will through the woods and glades of old Sherwood Forest in medieval days.

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## ROODS, SCREENS, AND LOFTS IN NOTTINGHAMSHIRE
By Aymer Vallance

Arnold.—William Stretton, writing about 1820, noted:—“The Gothic screen of oak is still remaining. The corbels and holes for the timbers to support the rood-loft still remain, with the stone staircase in the south-east angle.” The screen disappeared at the “restoration” in 1877. The rood-stairs survive, concealed behind the pulpit.

Attenborough.—The rood-stair, of which only a part remains, was contained in the south pier of the chancel arch. The door intended for issue onto the rood-loft is now blocked, but the entrance at the bottom, with a cambered head, is situated in the north-east corner of the south aisle.

Averham (October 1911).—A somewhat plain example of a late-fourteenth or early-fifteenth century screen, rectangular in construction, stands in the chancel opening. Its total length is 16 ft. 9 in. by 9 ft. high. It comprises thirteen compartments of average centring of 1 ft. 2½ in., i.e. five compartments on either hand of the doorway. The latter has a clear opening of 3 ft. 5½] in., and comprises three compartments, their two muntins being cut off by the horizontal door-head. The wainscot is 4 ft. 1 in. high, with head-tracery to the depth of 9 inches, consisting of one continuous run supported by four vertical mouldings, making five panels on each side of the doorway. The[125] south section of this tracery appears to be genuine, but the north section is all modern except 14 inches’ length immediately north of the doorway. All the flat panelling of the wainscot is modern. From the middle rail to the cord-line measures 44 in., the tracery in the head of the fenestration being 9 in. deep. This tracery is flat on the eastward face. The ornament attached to the west front of the lintel is modern.

Balderton.—“A most beautiful, richly moulded Perpendicular oak screen (circa 1475), having a figure of a monk with his arms crossed, and a globe below his foot, on the western face; and another of the Virgin and Child on the eastern face.” The screen is rectangular in construction, and comprises eight compartments, the two middle ones of which go to form the doorway.

Beauvale (Carthusian Priory).—From the foundation of the monastery in 1343, the church kept its original plan, an aisleless parallelogram, unchanged. The width of the nave, 27 ft., was, therefore, the length of the transverse screens, which disappeared at, or after, the surrender on 18th July 1539. “No trace of the pulpitum,” write Rev. A. Du Boulay Hill and Mr. Harry Gill, “can be seen in the standing walls,” nor did the excavations in 1908 disclose any pulpitum foundations.

Beckingham.—The will of Robert Hall, dated 28th May 1529, contains the clause: “do et lego fabrice crucifixorii de Bekyngham,” 15s.; and William Hall, by will dated 10th October 1538, bequeathed his “bodie to bee buried in the churche of Bekyngham afore the rood-lofte.” Rev. Dr. Cox writes (1911) to say that in the tower archway stands the middle portion of the chancel screen, consisting of the doorway and two more bays, or compartments, with very fine tracery, of late-fifteenth century workmanship. The doorway (now blocked) which led from the rood-stair[126] onto the top of the rood-loft, is visible in the east wall of the nave, to south of the chancel-arch.

Bilsthorpe.—The upper and lower doorways, square-headed, of the rood-stairs, now walled up, are clearly perceptible in the north side of the nave. Externally nothing of the old staircase remains.

Blyth (October 1911).—The church of the Benedictine Priory (dissolved in February 1535–36) and the parochial church were under the same roof; but the screening arrangements are by no means clear. That the wall which cuts off the first bay of the nave below the crossing was built previously to the Reformation is evident from the fact that the westward surface of the filling was painted, late in the fifteenth, or in the early part of the sixteenth, century with the subject of the Doom, many traces of which remain to this day. It may be that this was the site of the pulpitum, in which case the walling simply meant heightening the front of the pulpitum until the space was filled to the roof. In the foot of the wall is a doorway (now blocked) 5 ft. 5 in. wide by 6 ft. 6 in. high, with a cambered head. Presumably this door was the former entrance of the pulpitum-passage into the quire.

Photo: Mr. Arthur Lineker.

Blyth Priory Church: Screen in the Nave.

The rood-screen and loft over appear to have stood between the second pair of piers below the western crossing. Rev. John Raine, in his History and Antiquities of Blyth (1860), described this screen as having fared very ill, for “with the exception of a fragment at the corner of the private gallery of Blyth Hall[49] and the lower panels, it has been destroyed; and ... these panels, all perfect though they are, [127]are daubed over with paint, so as completely to obliterate the figures, except at the very base.” The screen, cleaned and “restored,” is of oak and rectangular in construction. It measures 21 ft. 6 in. long by 8 ft. 9 in. (exclusive of a modern lintel), with compartments centring at 1 ft. 2½ in. and having Perpendicular tracery to the depth of 12 in. in the head of the fenestration. The traceries are flat at the back, and only three at the northern extremity are genuine. They had been incorporated at one time in the Blyth Hall gallery. The doorway, contrary to what one would expect, is in the middle, and it has a clear opening of 3 ft. ½ in. The existing lintel rests in a hole of about 13 in. square in the second pier of the south arcade. The wainscot is 4 ft. 2 in. high and without tracery in the heads of the panels. The screen has at one time been richly coloured; only eleven, however, of the wainscot panels have paintings of saints, so much worn and mutilated as to be barely recognisable. The backgrounds are alternately green and deep purplish red. The subjects are as follow from north to south:—1. St. George. 2. Female saint in red robe, hands raised. 3. Archbishop in pontificals, chasuble red. 4. Female saint in red robe under green cloak, hands raised. 5. Abbot, or Abbess, in brown habit, crosier in hand. 6. Female saint in brown habit, kneeling to left, and contemplating a vision of our Lord rising out of the tomb or from clouds. Here is the doorway, having a clear opening of 3 ft. ½ in. South of the doorway:—7. Female saint, hands raised. 8. Saint in armour, with what looks like a hawk on his right hand. ? St. Bavon. 9. Figure in red, with close-fitting hood of red on the head, no nimbus, right hand holding what appears to be a boot; in which case it would represent Master John Schorne. 10. Figure in red, kneeling to right, and contemplating a vision. 11. Abbot, or Abbess, in brown habit, crosier in hand. Some of these figures have been identified respectively with Saints Boniface, Wilfrid, Edward, and Bridget. The last named, at any rate, is likely enough to be correct, seeing that among the lights of this church[128] were one of St. Bridget, as also one of St. Sitha (Zita), which proves both these saints to have been objects of devotion in the place. Various chases in the piers show that the two arches to west of the above-described screen were both occupied by wooden parcloses. Across the south or parochial aisle, about in line with the above-described screen across the nave, stands another Perpendicular oak screen, authentic in the main, though patched, repaired, and even, according to a note by C. Clement Hodges in the John of Gaunt Sketch Book (1880) having some details restored in composition. This screen measures 23 ft. 7 in. long by 12 ft. 10 in. high (cresting included). It comprises five bays centring at 4 ft. 5 in. to 4 ft. 6 in., of three lights each. The cord-line, as also the springing level of the vaulting, is 4 ft. 6½ in. above the middle rail. The tracery is 21 in. deep in the heads of the fenestration, which takes the form of depressed two-centred arches. The bases (9½ in. high) and the caps (8½ in. high) of the boutel-shafts are polygonal. The vaulting is complete on both sides of the screen, and the width across the top of the platform from front to back is 5 ft. 6 in. The breast-summer is deep, moulded, and has a hollow with square pateras. The wainscot is 4 ft. 2½ in. high, with tracery in the head of the panels to the depth of 9½ in. The panels, painted with figures, were “brought to light in 1842 from the boards and matting of pews, behind which they were concealed.” They may now, writes Raine in 1860, “be seen with sufficient distinctness, though with a few marks of Puritanical violence; with the exception of that of St. Ursula, which was found in such a state of decay as to justify its removal to a place of safe preservation. Other figures on the panels of the parish rood-screen have been cut away to make a road to the reading-desk and pulpit.” Six painted panels survive, as follow, from left to right:—To north of the doorway are: 1. St. Stephen in a red dalmatic; 2.? St. Agatha stripped to the middle, her breasts transversely pierced by a sword. 3. St. Edmund, crowned and holding a sceptre[129] and arrows. To south of the doorway (which has a clear opening of 4 ft. 6½ in.) are: 4. St. Helen; 5. St. Barbara; and 6. St. Ursula. Five of these paintings are figured in outline by J. G. Weightman in Rev. John Raine’s work.

In the south arcade wall a passage from one loft to the other was tunnelled through the spandrel over the pier. This passage is walled up toward the north, but remains visible, with a hollow opening on the south side of the arcade, over the top of the south aisle screen.

At right angles to the north end of the south aisle screen, and enclosing the north side of the parochial chancel, is another oak screen of Perpendicular date and rectangular construction. It measures 14 ft. long by 9 ft. 5 in. high. It comprises a doorway at the east end and eight lights, only two compartments, centring at 3 ft. 10 in. and consisting of three lights apiece, being complete. It originally comprised at least four compartments, including the doorway. The wainscot is 4 ft. 3 in. high, and the tracery in the fenestration heads is 9½ in. deep. In the west part of the north aisle of the nave are two runs of panelling, both of similar character but not quite identical in design, one of them bearing distinct traces of ancient painting; panelling which must have belonged to the parapets of the rood-loft. There is no tracery, but the stiles are handsomely moulded. One run, 7 ft. 1½ in. long by 4 ft. high, comprises six panels centring at 1 ft. 1½ in., the hand-rail being 6¼ in. high. The other run, 9 ft. 3½ in. long by 2 ft. 11½ in. high, comprises eight panels centring at about 14 in., the hand-rail being 5¾ in. high. Both hand-rails are elaborately embattled, like alternate billet mouldings. Under the western tower are three more fragments of similar hand-rail, respectively 2 ft. 3½ in., 2 ft. 4 in., and 2 ft. 5 in. long.

Bridgford, West (October 1911).—Across the present south aisle, and on the site of what was originally the east wall of the chancel previously to the enlarging of the church, stands an oak screen (circa 1380), of rectangular[130] construction. The character of the framework is that of a stone screen carried out in wood, with mason joints. It comprises four compartments, centring on an average at 1 ft. 5½ in., on either hand of the central doorway, the divisions of the wainscot corresponding with those of the fenestration. The doorway has a trefoil-cusped and feathered head, springing 6 ft. 6½ in. from the ground; it centres at 4 ft. 2½ in. and has a clear opening of 3 ft. 9½ in. The wainscot, 3 ft. 7½ in. high, has tracery in the head of the panels to the depth of 8½ in., but only the northernmost tracery ornament is authentic. The middle rail, embattled along the front edge, is flat upon the top, a familiar feature in early screenwork. The cord-line is 4 ft. 1½ in. above the middle rail and in the head of the fenestration the tracery is 16 in. deep. This tracery is in two orders on the west face of the screen, but the first order, with crocketed ogee ornament imposed, does not occur on the east face. The treatment of the crockets is peculiar, they being like rosettes at the points of cusping that radiates, instead of leaves that run in an upward direction in the usual manner. Moreover, the front surface of the tracery takes the form of a bead instead of the more usual fillet. The total height of the screen is 9 ft. 10 in. The lintel, 17 ft. 7 in. long, and embattled along the top, has a cavetto in which at intervals are pateras, all of floral ornament except the northernmost one (which represents a dog, or cat, with a rat in its mouth) and the pair surmounting the door-jambs. These two are masks, the northern one of which is muzzled. The jambs and the end-uprights are 5 in. wide, with mouldings in the lower part and pinnacles in the upper part, all cut out of the solid. A chase, 2 in. wide, in the abacus of the easternmost respond of the south aisle arcade shows that a wooden screen stood in the eastern arch of the arcade opening into the south aisle.

West Bridgford: Old Rood-Screen.

(Now in south aisle of enlarged church.)

Bunny (October 1911).—A much-mutilated oak screen, of rectangular construction and fourteenth century date, [131]stands across the chancel-arch, which, however, on account of the abnormally uneven spacing of the screen, can scarcely be its original position. There are three compartments on the north side of the entrance and two on the south, their centrings varying from 2 ft. 2 in. to 2 ft. 6 in. The five openings of the fenestration have ogee tracery to the depth of from 10 to 10½ in. in the head. The entrance has a clear opening of 3 ft. 10 in. wide by 8 ft. 6 in. high to the apex of its two-centred arch. The latter is formed by a pair of solid spandrels, springing at a depth of 2 ft. 8 in. below the lintel, and sculptured with conventional foliage, in low relief, of lithic character. In fact, the whole screen except its fenestration tracery, is mason’s work in wood. The jambs of the doorway have remains of buttressing; and the muntins have conspicuous stops at their junction with the middle rail. The latter has been cruelly hacked about and retains only scanty remains of the original battlementing along the front. The wainscot stands 4 ft. 3 in. high, but is now a mere framework, having been robbed of its stiles and panels. The tracery is flat at the back. Some remnants of the former colouring may be discerned. The north portion of the screen is 7 ft. 1 in. long and the south portion 6 ft. 1 in. The total length is 17 ft., the height 8 ft. 11 in., or 9 ft. 10 in. including the lintel, which is 19 ft. 4 in. long, and an incongruous addition, of eighteenth century character. In the upper part of the chancel-arch was a boarded tympanum, removed shortly before 1902. The stone of the east sweep of the easternmost arch of the north arcade has been cut into, probably for fitting the rood-loft into position.

Calverton.—By will dated 10th October 1499, Thomas Belfin left 13s. 4d. “facture unius roode-lofte in ecclesia de Calverton.” The middle part of the abacus and astragal of the capital of the north reveal of the chancel-arch has been cut through vertically for the insertion of wooden screenwork.

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Car Colston.—In 1824 W. Stretton recorded that a rich screen, separating the chancel from the nave, had been “lately taken down.” But Mr. T. M. Blagg, F.S.A., thinks that Stretton must have attributed the removal of the screen to too recent a date. All recollection of it had long passed out of mind by 1846 or 1847, when, during the process of cementing the middle alley of the nave (Mr. Blagg’s grandfather then being churchwarden) some broken tracery of a pre-Reformation screen was quite unexpectedly discovered beneath a floor-slab. By the churchwarden’s orders, the remains of screenwork were left where they had been found and the slab replaced over them. At the east end of the south aisle (according to information supplied by Mr. Harry Gill, M.S.A.) stands a dado formed of part of the screen-wainscot, measuring 4 ft. 3 in. long by 3 ft. 6½ in. high, inclusive of the middle rail, itself 4½ in. high. It consists of vertical boarding, reeded at the joints; its identity being established by the fact that it is pierced with holes for elevation-squints. Two of the holes are round, while the third is an elongated quatrefoil. Both reveals of the chancel-arch are hollowed, at a level of 3 ft. 10 in. from the bottom, with a chase 5 in. by 4½ in. for the insertion of wooden screenwork; and at a level of 3 ft. 2 in. above the chase is another one, 6 in. square, immediately below the necking of the chancel-arch. These chases are now patched with new stone. Moreover, the abacus has a chase extending upwards into the springer, for the lintel of the screen. The cutting away of part of the mouldings on the east side of the chancel-arch indicates the site of the eastern front of the rood-loft.

Clayworth (October 1911).—Though all the upper portion of the chancel-screen is only modern, the greater part of the wainscot is genuine. It stands 4 ft. 1 in. high, with head-tracery 10 in. deep, and of very doubtful authenticity. The back, or eastward, surface of the panels is of feather-edge boarding. The chief feature of the screen is[133] the extraordinary massiveness of the middle rail, which measures 8 in. high, is embattled along the top edge, and had square pateras along its westward front on either hand of the doorway. The north section having been curtailed, there are only two pateras on its rail and three panels below; but the south section, which appears to be of approximately the original dimensions, is 6 ft. 1 in. long, has three pateras along the rail, and comprises four compartments. The uprights have massive buttresses, square on plan. The rood-loft was approached from the north. The entrance in the northward face of the north chancel-pier is rectangular, 5 ft. 4 in. high by 1 ft. 7 in. wide. It is 1 ft. 3½ in. above the present floor level, and has a rebate, showing that the door swung outward from the stair. Three stone steps inside remain, but the rest of the stair is blocked. The issue naveward through the east spandrel of the north arcade is walled up likewise. Marks in the masonry indicate that there was formerly a parclose in the arch between the chancel and the south chapel, that of St. Nicholas.

Across the south aisle, and in line with the chancel-arch, there stands a stone screen-wall, 15 in. thick, 11 ft. 2 in. long, and about 10 ft. 6 in. high. It consists of three arched openings of obtuse two-centred form, each being constructed of two blocks of stone with a joint at the apex. The middle aperture 3 ft. 4 in. wide, with jambs measuring 9 in. each from north to south, is open to the ground, forming a doorway; but this does not look like the original plan, because the chamfer, instead of being carried down to the floor, is returned on the line of the fenestration-cill and has been abruptly cut through at the level of the latter in order to make the doorway. The change, however, if change it was, must have taken place previously to 1676, for a plan of the building in the “Rector’s Book” of that date shows the central doorway then in existence. The plinth is 11 in. high, and the wall sets on 2¾ in., back and front, except on the westward front of the south section. From the ground to the fenestration-cill measures 4 ft. 7 in. high, the[134] latter having a stool for the mullions worked on it. From the cill to the spring of the arches measures 3 ft. ½ in. The northern opening is 4 ft. 1 in. high by 2 ft. 5½ in., the southern one 4 ft. 2 in. high by 2 ft. 6 in. Both of them, like the upper part of the doorway, have chamfered edges of fairly wide splay. There is no sculpture whatever, but the surface of the stone shows abundant traces of red paint.

Colston Basset.—W. Stretton noted on 25th October 1811:—“The ... Gothic screen is still standing and is chaste and handsome,” and also that “the south transept has a fine Gothic screen still standing.” The latter was in two parts, one occupying the arch between the nave and the transept, the other the arch between the transept and south aisle. The church itself having been wantonly dismantled and turned into a ruin in 1892, the screens taken out of it were removed to Long Whatton church, Leicestershire.

Costock.—The church being without a chancel-arch, there was, previously to the sadly drastic “restoration” in 1848, a boarded partition, or tympanum, reaching to the roof from the top of the rood-screen. The latter was ancient, and is described as having been in a dilapidated state, and covered with whitewash.

Cotgrave.—“The staircase to the rood-loft on the south side of the chancel-arch is walled up.” (J. T. Godfrey, 1907.)

Cropwell Bishop.—In 1824 Stretton noted that the chancel was separated from the nave by a screen, which, however, has now disappeared.

Drayton, East.—There is a good late-fifteenth century rood-screen with handsome tracery. The coved top remains, but the lower panels are wanting and their place is occupied[135] by modern boarding. (Communicated by Rev. Dr. Cox, 1911.)

Elton.—Remains of fifteenth-century screenwork, incorporated in the high pews, were noted by Rev. Dr. Cox in 1904.

Finningley.—When Stretton wrote, the east end of the north aisle was still parted off by a Gothic screen, the enclosure being used as a vestry.

Gamston.—At the north-east end of the nave are the rood-stairs, encased in a turret rising above the roof.

Gedling.—An oak screen of Perpendicular work enclosed the east end of the north aisle until the “restoration” in 1871–72, when it was taken down and a portion only, consisting of the central doorway and two side compartments, preserved, and set up in the arch of the tower at the west end of the north aisle.

Granby.—“The chancel-arch bears evidence of the former existence of a screen.” (J. T. Godfrey, 1907.)

Hawton (1906).—The oak rood-screen, standing under the western order of the chancel-arch, dates from the latter half of the fifteenth century. Rectangular in construction, the screen measures 17 ft. 6½ in. long by 10 ft. 6½ in. high. It comprises five compartments, the two on either hand of the doorway centring at 3 ft. 3½ in., and divided by moulded muntins (3¾ in. wide from north to south) into three lights apiece, opening 9 in. wide. The wainscot, 4 ft. 4 in. high, is divided into rectangular panels, corresponding in spacing to the divisions of the fenestration, and having no tracery in the head, but pierced in the upper part, as though for elevation-squints, with little crosses composed of five circles[136] connected by straight slits, not unlike a cross pommée in heraldry. The door-jambs and the greater muntins (5 in. wide from north to south) are buttressed in the west with buttresses, square on plan, with panelled fronts, moulded bases, and two set-offs each. The middle rail, flat at the top, is 8 in. high. The fenestration each side of the entrance is 5 ft. 6 in. high with Perpendicular tracery in the head to the depth of 1 ft. 3½ in. An embattled transom conspicuously runs through the tracery of the fifteen lights. The doorway, which is without doors or gates, has a clear opening of 3 ft. 3 in. wide. The door-head is in the form of an arch with quatrefoil pierced spandrels, and cusped and feathered underneath, springing, at a level of 6 ft. 6½ in. from the bottom of the screen, under an horizontal lintel. The latter (5¾ in. high) cuts off the minor muntins above it at a distance of 1 ft. 4 in. below the cornice, itself 8½ in. high, and, like the middle rail and the door-lintel, handsomely moulded and embattled along the upper edge. The cornice is morticed along the top for the ribs of the rood-loft coving. The mortices, about an inch deep by 1¾ in. from east to west by 3 to 3½ in. long, centre on the average at 15 in. The coving has unfortunately perished with the loft, but, what is an extremely rare and notable feature, there remains, embedded in the north wall of the nave, the end of the loft woodwork, cut off flush with the plaster in the sixteenth century and eventually brought to light through the flaying of the wall surface in modern times. The profile of the breast-summer can be made out, but that of the hand-rail is less clear. Enough, however, survives to show that the level of the rood-loft platform was some 12 ft. 9 in. above the present floor level, and that the front parapet measured 3 ft. 10½ in. high, the top of the hand-rail being therefore 16 ft. 7½ in. from the floor. A sketch elevation, with details and sections of the rood-screen, drawn by J. Norton in 1871, is to be found in The Spring Gardens Sketch Book, plates 43 and 44, vol. v. 1874.

[137]

Holme Church toward the South-east from the Nave.

Holme (October 1911).—In this church are three screens in a sad state of neglect and dilapidation—the rood-screen the worst. They are all fifteenth-century work of timber and rectangular in construction. There is no chancel-arch, but the rood-screen extends, 13 ft. 5 in. long by 9 ft. 6 in. high, from the north wall to the south-arcade wall. The wainscot (exclusive of the ground-cill, which is not original) stands 3 ft. 8 in. high and has no head-tracery. Part of the wainscot boarding itself is missing. The middle rail is moulded and measures 5¾ in. high. The fenestration, centring from 2 ft. 3 in. to 2 ft. 5 in., is divided into four lights on either hand of the doorway, which opens 3 ft. 3½ in. in the clear, and has neither doors nor gates. The cord-line is 3 ft. 5 in. above the middle rail. The fenestration tracery should be 10 in. deep, but only one piece, that in the head of the light to north of the doorway, is original. It is flat at the back. The rest of the tracery 10½ in. deep and not corresponding with the original one in design, nor in spacing[138] with the framework of the screen itself, does not belong. Indeed it is not screen-tracery at all, but has been taken from the front of stall-desks and misapplied to the screen so unintelligently that the flat hind part is actually turned round toward the front. The lintel is of deal, with portions of old broken cresting attached both to the east and west sides.

Some 3 ft. further west than the rood-screen, stands a parclose under the arch between the nave’s south aisle and the south chapel. The screen measures 15 ft. 5½ in. long by 8 ft. 11 in. It comprises five compartments, centring at 2 ft. 1½ in., and divided into two lights apiece. The wainscot, exclusive of the ground-cill, which is 5 in. high, stands 3 ft. 9 in. high, with head-tracery to the depth of 11 in. The doorway has a clear opening of 3 ft. 2 in., and part of the original door remains; a minor muntin, however, and the lower panels wanting, though the head-traceries, 10¼ in. deep, are still preserved. There remain also the old lock, hasp, and part of the sliding bolt. The cord-line is 3 ft. 5 in. above the middle rail; and the fenestration tracery, very like that of the rood-screen, is 11 in. deep. The lintel is substantial, and well moulded, but has no cresting.

The third screen, of much the same date and character as the others, is a parclose occupying part of the westernmost arch between the chancel and the south chapel. It measures 7 ft. 5½ in. long by 8 ft. 1 in. high, and consists of four compartments centring at 1 ft. 9½ in., and divided each into two lights by minor muntins. There is a doorway at the east end of the screen, the rebate showing that the door, now lost, swung into the chapel. The wainscot, of which all the panels are missing, stood 3 ft. 3 in. high; the cord-line is 3 ft. 4½ in. above the middle rail, and the head-tracery of the fenestration is 11 in. deep.

Holme Pierrepont.—On the north outside wall, in line with the chancel-arch, is a semi-circular projection[139] having an embattled parapet level with the top of the wall. Though, owing to inside plastering, there is now no visible means of access, there can be no doubt that this was the rood-stair turret.

Kelham (October 1911).—In the chancel-arch stands an oak rood-screen, which has been repaired in places, but is, in the main, authentic work of about 1475. Its total length is 10 ft. 4½ in., and its height (exclusive of a poor, modern parody of brattishing) 9 ft. 7 in. It consists of six bays, centring from 1 ft. 8½ in. to 1 ft. 9 in., the two middle bays together forming the doorway, with a clear opening of 3 ft. 1 in. under a four-centred door-head. The doors are wanting. The wainscot, including the ground-cill, is 4 ft. 3 in. high, with tracery in the head of the panels (two panels to each bay) to the depth of 7½ in. The two-centred arched openings above have head-tracery to the depth of 2 ft. 1 in., originally supported on one central muntin, which divided each bay of the fenestration into two lights, but has been improperly removed to make the screen more open. The distance from the middle rail to the cord-line is 3 ft.; the cord-line being 8½ in. higher than the spring of the arch over the entrance. The latter once had rich cusping underneath, of which nothing but mutilated stumps now remain. The upper side of the arch has a row of crockets hollowed out behind, and perforated and carved in the most refined manner. They are now sadly broken. The tracery in the side openings is enriched with an ogee, imposed in relief, with crockets and finial to correspond. The east face of the screen is flat and plain compared with the west face. The vaulting, now utterly perished, sprang, at a height of 13 in. above the cord-line, from polygonal embattled caps, each resting, not on a single boutel, but on a cluster of three small, engaged shafts. A feature of the screen is the embattled transom which runs right through the fenestration tracery on a line with the springing-caps. The[140] latter being very similar in design to the transom, the effect is unusually coherent and satisfying.

The rood-stair turret, polygonal on plan, stands in the eastern abutment at the end of the north arcade wall, and projects on either hand, northwards into the aisle, and southwards into the nave. It is continued within the building up to the aisle roof, above which it rises as high as the nave, terminating in a plain horizontal parapet. Stone steps inside turn on a cylindrical newel. The stair is entered from the nave through a four-centred doorway, 5 ft. high by 1 ft. 7 in., the door swinging inward. The issue, in a direct line above the entrance, is now blocked up, but the stone door-frame is visible, 1 ft. 5½ in. wide by 4 ft. 9 in. high, to the crown of its arched head, the form of which may be described as segmental with rounded corners. The threshold has been tampered with, but it is evident that the doorway opened on to the loft at a height of 10 ft. 3½ in. above the present nave floor level.

In the arch between the chancel of the south chapel stands an oak parclose of about the year 1440. It is rectangular in construction, 10 ft. 2½ in. in length, and comprises four compartments, centring at about 30 in. The wainscot is 4 ft. 5½ in. high, having tracery to the depth of 12¼ in. in the head of each of the three panels with which each compartment is divided. The fenestration correspondingly consists of three lights to each compartment with tracery in the head to the depth of 12½ in.; the height from the middle rail to the cord-line being 23½ in. The second compartment from the east is the door. The total height of the screen is 8 ft. including an embattled lintel of modern work.

Keyworth.—The rood-loft was approached at the north end through the east spandrel of the easternmost arch of the north arcade. Although the apertures have been walled up, the jambs of the rood-stair entrance in[141] the north aisle and of the issue into the nave were visible until the “restoration” in 1874, or even later, but they are now entirely hidden by plastering. Cuts in the naveward corners of the abacus on each side of the easternmost arch of the north arcade mark the place where a timber parclose was formerly fixed. (October 1911.)

Kingston-on-Soar.—In 1819, Stretton noted that the screen was standing, and that it had “plain tracery, but ... no appearance of a rood-loft.” This apparently means that the screen was not vaulted, but rectangular in construction. It has, unfortunately, been removed.

Kneesall.—The latticed screen had already been taken down when Stretton wrote, about 1820.

Lambley.—There is no chancel-arch, but in the chancel opening stands an oak screen to which Rev. Dr. Cox assigns the date 1377. It is of Perpendicular work and rectangular form. It comprises five compartments on either hand of the entrance, all with tracery in the head of the fenestration. The screen is 11 ft. 2 in. high by 18 ft. long. The central doorway is 4 ft. 2 in. wide, but no doors remain. “The rood-loft was approached by a staircase on the north side.”

Langar.—In 1851, Andrew Esdaile remarked the original rood-loft still standing, and kept with great care as a beautiful ornament and one of extreme rarity, if not unique, in the neighbourhood. In 1864 the Associated Societies’ Reports observed that the screen, though somewhat heavy, was “a fine specimen of carved work of its time, ... the half-canopy” being “especially good.” A staircase within the screen afforded “the sole access to the tower.” But by the time that J. T. Godfrey wrote, in 1907, the rood-screen had “been swept away, except the beam and jambs,” which were then fixed up at the west end[142] of the nave. There the relics of the screenwork, with tracery panelling beneath a carved vine-trail, may still be seen. The north transept is shut in by parcloses on the south and west; the south transept by a parclose on the north only. These screens are of oak and have undergone some restoration.

Laxton.—The rood-screen which extends from side to side of the nave, across the front of the chancel-arch, is a fine specimen of Perpendicular, conjectured to have been erected by Bishop Rotherham between 1480 and 1500. The head-ornament of the fenestration is of two orders, the first consisting of a crocketed canopy on the face of the tracery, the second the pierced tracery itself. The screen was moved bodily one bay westwards of its original position when the church was altered in 1860 by Mr. T. C. Hine. To adapt it to its new situation, the screen was then lengthened by some additional work at one end. A parclose in the north aisle embodies portions of ancient screenwork, richly carved, and bearing the words of the angelic salutation and a shield charged with the Five Wounds, goutté de sang (mistaken by Thoroton for “weeping eyes”). The donor’s name, Robert de Trafford, and the date, 1532, are also inscribed upon this screen. There is, moreover, a parclose in the south aisle.

Leverton, North.—James Nightgale, by will dated 5th October 1545, bequeathed his “bodie to bee buried in the churche ... of Northelewton before the Rood-lofte.”

Leverton, South.—The chancel-screen was removed during the “restoration” in 1897. Some portions are still stored in the belfry, but it appears, according to Mr. Harry Gill, to have been but a poor work, executed in deal. In that case it was certainly not a mediæval structure.

Lowdham.—A bequest by Robert Peper, of Morton, on[143] 9th May 1529, of half a quarter of barley “to the roode off loodame” is believed to refer to Lowdham.

Maplebeck.—The screen, described by Stretton as a “studded partition,” is of seventeenth-century workmanship, with balustrades, but the lintel is pronounced by Rev. Dr. Cox to be of the fifteenth century.

Markham, East.—Christopher Saureby, Vicar, by will, 30th April 1439, desired to be buried “before the chancel-door,” i.e. beneath the foot of the Great Rood. In 1907, Rev. A. E. Briggs observed that the rood-screen, “apparently cut down in Laudian days, was removed to its present position in 1897.” The rood-stair entrance (blocked and turned into a chimney in the early part of the nineteenth century) is situated in the east wall of the nave, to south of the chancel-arch. In a direct line above it, in the south spandrel of the chancel-arch, is the former issue onto the rood-loft—a four-centred doorway, likewise blocked. There is a rood-turret at the south-east corner of the nave.

Markham Clinton (otherwise West Markham).—In this church, now abandoned to decay, are the scanty remains of a screen of late date. They comprise a set of plain standards (the doorway opening 3 ft. 3 in. wide) and some eighteenth-century panelling which fills the space above the lintel.

Muskham, North (October 1911).—The fifteenth-century rood-screen, having become dilapidated, was extensively restored, in the first decade of the twentieth century, by Bowman, of Stamford. It measures 12 ft. 7 in. long and comprises six bays, centring from 2 ft. 1 in. to 2 ft. 1½ in., the two midmost bays forming the entrance. The wainscot, exclusive of the modern ground-cill, stands 3 ft. 11 in. high, with tracery in the head of the panels to[144] the depth of 9 in., two traceries only of the original surviving on the north side. Of the skirting ornament, which is 8½ in. high, some parts on the north side are authentic. The entrance has a clear opening of 3 ft. 9½ in., and there are no gates. The cord-line is 3 ft. 4 in. above the middle rail, and the tracery in the head of the fenestration is 31 in. deep. That on the west face is of two orders, the first consisting of crocketed ogees implanted. The tracery is less finished on the east face, solid carved spandrels above it showing that the vaulting projected only westward. The level of the springing of the groined vaults is 17 in. above the cord-line. The boutel-caps for the springing of the ribs are clustered groups of three each, with architectural carving. The vaulting and the platform at the top of the screen are entirely new. As recently as 1902—before the “restoration,” that is—the screen, robbed of its original vaulting, stood surmounted by a cornice of seventeenth-century work. The rood-loft was approached from the north; the bottom entrance being situated in the north aisle in the east abutment of the nave’s north arcade. It is secured by an ancient oak door, fitted with two iron strap-hinges, and swinging back against the east wall of the aisle. The threshold of the stair is 4 ft. 7 in. above the nave floor, and the wooden door frame is rectangular (20½ in. wide by 4 ft. 6 in. high), the southward underside of the lintel being hollowed out to provide for the rise of the stair in the hollow of the arcade-wall, which is 35 in. thick. Two original stone steps remain, rising 20 in. altogether. The rest of the steps are entirely modern, affording an ascent less steep than the original one was. A series of eight oblong chases at regular intervals, under the western order of the chancel-arch, shows where the vertical quarters of a boarded tympanum were fixed; and a pair of chases, somewhat further toward the east, mark the site of an horizontal timber, which held the tympanum in place. A vertical chase through the east part of the label of the easternmost arch of the south arcade marks where the front of the rood-loft[145] parapet projected in the nave. Another pair of chases, 8 in. high, in the eastward order of the chancel-arch, shows the position of the parapet of the rood-loft toward the chancel, and that the top of it reached to a height of 16 ft. 5 in. above the present nave floor level. Two runs of panelling from the fronts of pews, or chancel-stall desks, are now set up in the south aisle in a deceptive fashion that suggests the wainscot of a parclose screen cut down, which even a cursory examination is enough to prove that they never could have been.

Muskham, South.—If the screen was originally elaborate, it had at any rate lost its ornament by 1859, in which year the upper part, then a plain rectangular frame of oak, was levelled down to the middle rail. The wainscot was spared for the time, but, being mistaken for deal, it was ultimately removed at the “restoration,” 1873–82. The pieces are said to have been treasured religiously by the old clerk, John Fletcher; but the son who succeeded him being dead, and the home broken up, all traces of the ancient screenwork have disappeared. (Information kindly supplied by Miss M. B. Hull, of North Muskham.) Fortunately, however, the building itself affords some indications of the ancient arrangements. In the eastward order of the chancel-arch a square patch of new stone—on the north side 10 in. high, and at a level of 13 in. above the capital; on the south side 12 in. high and 10 in. above the capital—probably marks the level of the screen lintel. The soffit of the arch has been much scraped, but there are distinct traces of a groove under the north sweep for fitting in the boarding of a tympanum; and toward the west, just under the apex of the arch, are two sunk spaces, where the top of a vertical timber was made to fit into the stone. (October 1911.)

Newark.—Reference in a will in 1482 shows that at that date there existed an altar of St. Crux in the church.[146] The indenture, dated 21st February 1531–32, of Thomas Magnus for the founding of a free Grammar school and free Song school, ordained that the song-schoolmaster and six children should nightly recite, after the antiphon of our Lady, “another antempne of Jhesus ... afore the rode in the bodye of the churche (i.e. in the nave); ... knelyng in the manner and forme as ... hath and ys usyd before the Roode of the north dore in ... Seynt Paule in London and in the college of Wyndesore (St. George’s Chapel), with lyke prostracions and devout maner.”

The general opinion is that, though the character of the work looks ten or fifteen years earlier, the construction of the rood-screen and loft was begun in 1492 and finished in 1508. This opinion rests on the fact that there is preserved, among the papers of the Corporation, an acquittance of the latter date, by which the churchwardens and others acknowledge that a carver, Thomas Drawswerd, of York, has thoroughly carried out his undertaking to make the “reredose.”

The Rev. J. F. Dimock, in 1855, appears to have been the first to interpret the term “reredose” in this case to mean the rood-loft, and subsequent writers on the subject have taken the identification for granted, notwithstanding the word “rood-loft” was in familiar use at the date in question, and there is no reason why it should not have been employed in the acquittance, if it was really meant. In that event, two bequests in 1509, viz., that of Thomas Pygg, who left 40s. “to gild the picture of the reredos,” and that of Elizabeth Jenyn, who left £3 for “giltyng of the reredos,” would refer to the decoration of the screen and loft. Another bequest, that of John Philipote, who in the same year, 1509, left a sum of money for “gilding the Rodehouse,” though the precise meaning is obscure, does more certainly refer to some part of the structure connected with the Rood.

Newark Church: Rood-Screen, from the North-west.

There is no question whatever that the Perpendicular oak rood-screen is an exceedingly magnificent example of [147]its kind. It stands, at a distance of some 126 ft. from the west door, against the west face of the piers of the eastern crossing. It must originally have extended, or been designed to extend, across the chancel-aisles as well as the chancel-opening. Its ends, however, are cut off abruptly, and furbished with modern ornament, to give the truncation a specious appearance of completeness. It now measures 36 ft. 6 in. long, and consists of nineteen bays centring from 1 ft. 10 in. to 1 ft. 11½ in. The four bays of either end are blind, and no doubt served as reredoses for altars. Of the eleven bays with open fenestration, the three in the middle are occupied by the four-centred doorway into the chancel. The wainscot is 4 ft. 10 in. high, with tracery to the depth of 14 in. in the head of each of the two panels into which each bay is divided. The spandrels of this head-ornament are solid, and sculptured with a great variety of forms—angels, masks, birds, beasts, and monsters. The doors are complete, and measure 5 ft. 3 in. across when closed, the jambs centring at 5 ft. 8 in. The fenestration has a lofty opening of 9 ft. 2 in. from the middle rail to the crown of its two-centred arches. The distance from the middle rail to the cord-line of the fenestration tracery is 45 in. So slight, however, is all the lower portion of the head-ornament—simply a muntin, rising from the summit of a cusped arc, and dividing the opening into two lights—that the virtual cord-line is the springing-point, some 30 in. higher, of the arches of the twin lights. Above their head the tracery, in two orders, has a first order with a crocketed ogee running up to a finial. The vaulting toward the east as well as toward the west springs, at a level of 4 ft. 1 in. above the cord-line and 12 ft. 8 in. above the foot of the screen, from moulded polygonal caps, resting each on a triple cluster of engaged shafts. From each cap spring five ribs and two half-ribs, the latter along the screen’s axial line, where each pair of half-ribs meets in the apex of the[148] arched opening. The extremities of the projecting ribs are not embedded in a breast-summer, but, arching forward and downward, produce a series of pendent arches along the front of the screen top. The interstices of the groining have no cusping, but combine to form, in the crown of each bay, as it were the four arms of a cross pointed, composed of four hexagons, two of them more elongated than the others. These hexagons again are sub-divided by mouldings into four circles or vesicas (sixteen to the bay) in which are inserted leaden discs, cast and gilt, of fine perforated tracery, in appearance not unlike the rose ornament in the sound-hole of a guitar. The screen, exclusive of the cresting, stands slightly over 16 ft. in height. The whole is raised on a stone base, or stepped platform, 1 ft. above the nave level. The screen was repaired in about 1815. In 1853 the paint was cleaned off and the screen “restored with an almost incredible amount of labour,” writes Cornelius Brown, “the greatest portion of the upper part of the carved work being new.” The whole surface is now very dark, but slight traces of scarlet here and there show that originally it was gay with colour. The rood-stair, lighted by one pierced quatrefoil and two plain rectangular loops, is contained in the south-east pier of the crossing. It is entered from the east, in the south chancel-aisle, through a four-centred doorway 1 ft. 10 in. wide. The steps averaging 1 ft. 11 in. wide, turn on a cylindrical newel. There are twenty stone winders, culminating in two wooden steps which emerge westward through a four-centred doorway onto the floor of the loft platform. The organ, erected in 1804 in a west gallery and subsequently transferred to the rood-loft, was removed on the recommendation of Sir Gilbert Scott during the restoration 1853–55. Previously to that time there had been a gallery front on the top of the screen, forming a complete loft, with Gothic-like arcading and pinnacles, no earlier, probably, than the date of the organ-case itself, which was of imitation Gothic. The rood-loft parapets are now wanting. The[149] platform, extending across the chancel opening, measures 24 ft. 6 in. long at its shortest, between the reveals of the chancel-arch, and 8 ft. 10 in. from front to back. In the middle, however, over the entrance in the chancel, it projects 3 ft. 5 in. further eastward, forming, as it were, a porch over the chancel gates. This projection is 7 ft. 1½ in. wide from north to south, and 12 ft. 3 in. over all from east to west. The two westernmost arches of the chancel arcades, north and south, are fenced by parcloses of six bays apiece, having an average centring of 2 ft., and forming a screen of twelve vaulted bays on each side, behind the stalls. The canopies of the latter are, in fact, the overhanging vaults of the screens; for, though the stone pier intervenes midway, the timber groining is ingeniously contrived, branching outward, to embrace the pier in such wise that the breast-summer of the two halves together extends uninterruptedly both chancelwards and chancel-aislewards. There is no apparent means of access, and perhaps never was, between the rood-loft and the top of the side-screens, nor is there anything to show whether the latter ever had any parapets. The middle rail of the parcloses toward the chancel-aisles is embattled along its upper edge, and along its face runs a band of tracery on a wave basis. The panels beneath have head-tracery to the depth of 6¾ in. in the easternmost sections on each side of the chancel, and 7¾ in. deep in the westernmost sections, the latter having a somewhat higher level than the others. The pierced metal ornaments in the rood-screen vaulting are replaced, in the case of the side-screens, by similar ornaments in wood. For the rest the design of the side-screens, though adapted, is virtually identical with that of the rood-screen itself, the whole series of screens together constituting a coeval and complete scheme. (1906, and October 1911.)

Normanton-on-Trent.—The upper doorway of the rood-staircase remains on the south side; also the corbels[150] for the support of the rood-loft or rood-beam. (E. L. Guilford.)

Norwell.—The entrance to the rood-stair is in the north transept. The doorway is 1 ft. 11 in. wide by 6 ft. 1½ in. The stair comprises fifteen steps, of which three lead up from without to the newel-stair within. The ascent is steep and narrow, and the stair emerges 10 ft. 8½ in. from the ground by an opening 1 ft. 7 in. wide.

Nottingham.—Carmelite Friary Church.—“When Henry VIII. visited Nottingham, in August 1511 ... he made an offering ... at the Rood of the White Friars.” The surrender took place on 5th February 1539.

St. Catherine’s Chapel, in the Castle.—The Liberate Roll shows that, in the year beginning 28th October 1251, Henry III. ordered the Sheriff of Nottingham to cause “the judgment to be dreaded” to be painted “in the gable of the ... chapel.” The meaning surely is that the subject of the Doom was painted on a tympanum, or wall-space, above, or behind, the Rood.

St. Mary’s.—The report (among the Records of the Borough of Nottingham) of an action, 10th February 1517–18, arising out of a dispute as to the precise place of payment, shows that one of the litigants, Ralph Palmer, had received 5s. “for a reward for painting the rood-loft in St. Mary’s.” Alderman Heskey, making his will in 1558, directed that his body should be buried in the middle alley of the church, “before the picture of Christ Crucified,” i.e. in front of the Rood.

It is evident that the existing building was planned from the outset for a rood-loft, the spacing of the windows allowing blank abutments for the presence of the pair of rood-turrets at the junction of the outer lateral walls of the nave aisles with the west wall of the transept. These octagonal turrets, with their eight-sided conical caps above the transept roof, are conspicuous features of the exterior. Within[151] the church, at the east end of each outer wall of the nave aisles, is a stone doorway now blocked, 2 ft. wide by 5 ft. 9 in. high, which formerly gave access to the newel stairs in the turrets. The door-frames have deep chamfers, stopped at the foot. The north doorway is rectangular with rounded corners, and the south one is similar, only its lintel is slightly cambered underneath. There is no sign of an upper door on the north, but above the rood-stair entrance on the south, at a level of 14 ft. from the floor, the place, walled up with yellow stone, is clearly visible, where a doorway, of the same width as that below, and apparently two-centred, emerged upon a loft across the south aisle. There is nothing to show whether the rood-loft gangway continued in one stretch of 67 ft. across nave and aisles at the western crossing, or whether, spanning the aisles only at this point, it returned eastwards across the transepts, to connect with a loft across the structural chancel-arch. Anyhow, the transepts were certainly screened off, in pre-Reformation days, to form chapels, that of All Saints on the north, and that of the Samon chantry on the south. (October 1911.)

St. Peter’s.—From a bequest in February 1313–14, it is known that there was at that date a chapel of the Holy Cross in the building.

Alice Dalby, by will dated 28th March 1459, left 20s. “fabrice sancte crucis in le rodeloft ... et eidem cruci ... duas lapides de byrrall” and 5s. “in auro facto.”

The rood-loft across the east end of the nave was approached from the south, the stairs being built in the south pier and the staircase projecting in a cant in the north-east angle of the south aisle, and externally (all its masonry now refaced), in the re-entering angle between the chancel and the south aisle of the nave. The entrance to the stairs is at the extreme east end of the nave’s south wall, but the doorway has been too much renovated to be worth measuring. The steps within are about 2 ft. wide, and turn on a cylindrical stone newel. The stair opens[152] westwards, under an imperfect four-centred arch, onto a small landing in the hollow of the wall, whence another step or two led up northwards onto the loft itself, under an horizontal lintel. The east end of the latter abuts against the head of the four-centred arch just named, and is carried on a corbel sculptured to represent the demi-figure of a man, crowned and bearded. The awkward combination of these two doorways, in the south-east corner of the nave, is most peculiar. Indeed it is clear that the uppermost doorway cannot be in its original state, because its west side and jamb are composed of a large stone slab set on end, the incised crosses on the surface of which unmistakably testify to its having been a consecrated altar-stone. As such it could not have been placed in its present position until after the Reformation. (October 1911.)

Nuthall.—Under the west side of the chancel-arch stands an oak screen of five rectangular compartments, i.e. two narrower ones on either hand of a wider compartment for the entrance. The ornament in the head of the latter is modern work of the year 1884. The screen is 13 ft. long by 8 ft. 4 in. high. The tracery in the fenestration-heads is of two orders, the first consisting of crocketed ogee ornament. This chancel-screen has obviously been reconstructed. The fact is that both this and another screen (which occupies the arch at the east end of the nave’s north aisle, and embodies some portions of original work), were made up from a parclose that surrounded the Temple pew at the east end of the north aisle and was taken down in 1884 “cleaned from paint, restored and re-erected” in the present situations. Rev. Dr. Cox, however, is of opinion that the Temple parclose itself had, at some time after the Reformation, been constructed out of the ancient rood-screen.

Ordsall.—At the west end of the church stands a good screen, of late-fifteenth century workmanship,[153] retaining its coving complete and comprising three bays on either hand of the entrance. Rev. Dr. Cox, on the internal evidence of the screen itself, is disposed to discredit the common tradition that it is a domestic work, brought hither from Hayton Castle.

Scarle, South.—The rood-screen, dating apparently from the time of Henry VI., was removed in 1871, but has since been repaired and refitted. It now stands at the chancel opening, and measures 12 ft. 5 in. long by 9 ft. 7 in. high. It comprises three bays of depressed two-centred arches, of which the middle one, perceptibly narrower than the others, forms the doorway, with a clear opening of 3 ft. 5 in. The wainscot is 3 ft. 7 in. high, each bay of it divided into two panels, corresponding to the two main lights of the fenestration, and having head-tracery which reproduces on a smaller scale and of one order only the fenestration tracery. The latter is of bold character, and in two orders, the first of which consists of crocketed ogee ornament. The finials have been displaced and incorrectly fixed just above the springers of the perished vaulting. The ribs of the latter sprang from polygonal moulded and embattled caps.

Shelford.—By the time that Stretton wrote, in 1818, the screen had already “been taken down, except a part within the arch (? a tympanum) bearing the King’s Arms of the time of George I.” Matthew Henry Barker, author of Walks Round Nottingham, in 1835 wrote:—“On the skreen, dividing the body of the church from the chancel, is the Royal Arms flamingly painted, and the artist has left his name upon his work, ‘Charles Blunt, 1717.’ There are also the names of the churchwardens for that year.” The corbels noted by J. T. Godfrey in May 1885, projecting “from the walls of the nave, just above the capitals of the piers of the chancel-arch,” were, without doubt, designed to carry the rood-loft or rood-beam.

[154]

Sibthorpe.—On 3rd December 1336 the founder of the Collegiate establishment gave ample endowments for various religious purposes, including the providing of a lamp to burn, on stated occasions, before the rood.

Southwell.—The Minster, being a secular canons’ church, had not a rood-screen in addition to the pulpitum, but the latter served both purposes. There appears to be no evidence to show where the Norman pulpitum stood; but that the present site, the eastern crossing, was the position of the pulpitum at least from the beginning of the thirteenth century, is proved by the existence of an early English doorway giving access from the north-west part of the south quire-aisle to the staircase leading to the top of the loft. This doorway, 2 ft. 6½ in. wide, opens onto the foot of the stairs at a level of about 5 ft. 6 in. from the floor, and is the only relic of the earlier pulpitum. That which still happily survives is a magnificent specimen of stonework dating from the early years of Edward III., while the eastward front of it, the latest portion, was finished about the middle of the fourteenth century. The pulpitum extends over the entire area between the eastern crossing piers, its back part projecting considerably beyond the eastern limit of the said piers. The total breadth covered from east to west is 17 ft. 6 in. On plan the pulpitum at the east or back part consists of two parallel walls 2 ft. 7 in. apart, while the west front is an open arcade of three arches between two blind arches. The eastern elevation is 21 ft. 1 in. high by 32 ft. 3 in. long, the western 21 ft. 6 in. high by 28 ft. 7 in. long. In the westward arcade the middle arch, narrower than the others, has a clear opening of 4 ft. 10 in. and centres at 6 ft. 7½ in. The northern arch is about half an inch wider than the southern, but they have approximately a clear opening of 5 ft. 2½ in. each and centre at 7 ft. each. The arches spring at a level of 9 ft. 11 in., the height from the springing to the apex of the opening being 4 ft. 11 in. The arches are two-centred and boldly cusped, the cusps [155]having a slight ogee curve at the crown of the foliations. The space under the pulpitum is 21 ft. 9½ in. long from north to south (or 20 ft. 7½ in. on the ground), and is 8 ft. 3 in. in the clear from east to west between the keelmoulds of the reveals. Each end wall within is beautifully panelled with blind tracery of flamboyant character, having three lights, over a shallow recess, gabled above and cusped beneath, as though for a tomb such as Bishop Gower’s, which occupies a somewhat analogous situation under the pulpitum at St. David’s Cathedral. The roof overhead is vaulted in three bays, ranging from north to south, with open vaulting-ribs, under a flat ceiling, with skeleton trefoils in their spandrels. (Skeleton vaulting again occurs, for instance, under the fourteenth-century pulpita of Lincoln and St. David’s cathedrals.) Of the two parallel walls at the back part of Southwell pulpitum, the western one should perhaps be more accurately described as a three-arch arcade, of which the north and south arches are walled up to the height of 7 ft. 8 in. from the ground. At the foot of each of these walls, as against a reredos, just as in the similarly planned pulpitum at Chichester, it is probable that an altar stood, until the Reformation. The spaces above the walls to the apex of the arches were once protected, as numerous holes in their stone framework testify, by metal grates, or by stanchions and saddle-bars. The central archway affords the opening, 4 ft. 10 in. wide, of the passage into the quire. On either hand of this passage, between the two parallel walls, a flight of steps leads up to the top of the pulpitum. According to a writer in the Building News, 28th February 1887, neither of these flights of steps had been discovered and opened out until some few years previously to that date. Until then the only means in use to reach the top had been the original stair which ascends from the south quire aisle. In either staircase opening from the central passage hangs a door, set back 2 ft. 4 in. from the passage, so as to swing forwards, and yet clear of, the latter. The western parapet to the pulpitum is[156] embattled above a band of pierced tracery on a wave basis, the height of the parapet from the loft floor level to the summit of the battlements being 4 ft. 5 in. The east doorway from under the pulpitum into the quire has a clear opening of 4 ft. 10½ in., and is flanked on either hand by three canopied stalls (the return-stalls of the quire) centring at 3 ft. 1½ in., all of stone and integral structurally with the pulpitum itself—a most unusual, if not indeed unique, arrangement. The springing of the canopies is at a height of 8 ft. 9½ in. above the quire floor level. Above the stalls is an upper tier of stone-tracery, blind except in the case of the panels over the middle stall on each side. This pair of panels is pierced to light the staircases within. Beyond the stalls each extremity of the east façade of the pulpitum has a blind panel from top to bottom as in the west front. The east front is of extraordinary delicacy and elaboration, being without doubt, as above stated, later in date than the other. It must, however, be acknowledged that much of the ornament was renovated in composition, at the beginning of the nineteenth century, by Berndsconi, an Italian, the same who “restored” the carved work of York Minster pulpitum. As for the example at Southwell, Canon J. F. Dimock, in 1853, observed that the feature of “double foliations ... does not occur in any original portion” of the pulpitum. Mr. H. H. Statham considers it peculiar as “a pronounced example of the German” device of interpenetrating mouldings. The mural “diaper-work on the inner side of the screen,” he continues, is remarkable because, in the “minute design dividing the wall-surface ... into small squares ... every square is differently treated—a by no means usual refinement.”

Southwell Minster: Pulpitum, from the West.

Photo: Mr. Arthur Lineker.

Southwell Minster: Pulpitum, from the East.

In the early part of the nineteenth century, plaster screens, the work of Berndsconi, embodying portions of the originals, were erected between the quire and its aisles. This plaster-work was removed on the recommendation, in 1875, of Mr. Ewan Christian, endorsed by Mr. G. E. Street, that “new screens of oak on the model of those which[157] formerly existed,” should be substituted. “Fragments were found still remaining in situ; besides many loose pieces, which had been stored in the roof of the chapter house,” and upon these the new screens were based. They were finished by 1892, the carvers being Messrs. Cornish and Gaymer, of North Walsham. If only the fragments of old work had been preserved and incorporated, instead of being merely copied, in the new work, the latter, as enshrining them, might have had some justification for its existence. As it stands, however, it is absolutely commonplace and devoid of interest. (October 1911.)

Staunton.—Across the chancel-arch is a screen which Rev. Dr. Cox esteems one of the most interesting in the county, because it bears both the date of execution and the donor’s name. The inscription, sculptured in relief in black-letter along the middle-rail, reads:—“(Pray) for the saule of Mayster Simon Yates, bachelor in Law, living in Newark, Parson of this Church and of Beckingham, and official of the Archdeaconry, (who) caused this Rood lofte and the Tabernacle of our Lady to be made in the yere of our Lord MCCCCCXV, on whose saul God have mercie.” The screen is fairly perfect, except that it has lost its loft. “The Rector, the Rev. F. J. Ross, has himself taken the trouble to remove the many coats of paint with which it was covered.”

Strelley (1907).—The oak rood-screen, a remarkably rich and handsome specimen of Perpendicular (about 1490), and bearing a striking resemblance to the parclose in the south transept at Chesterfield, stands against the west side of the chancel-arch. It measures 16 ft. 4 in. long by 14 ft. 10 in. high over all on the west. It comprises five bays vaulted towards the nave, the entrance having a clear opening of 2 ft. 10¼ in., with doors complete, occupying the central bay. The centring of the bays varies from 3 ft. 2½ in. to 3 ft. 4 in. The wainscot stands 5 ft. ¼ in. high, this measure[158] including a stone plinth 7¾ in. high. The middle rail is ornamented along the front with a band of tracery—a wave between quatrefoils. Each compartment is divided into four panels corresponding to the lights of the fenestration. The panels have cinquefoil-cusped ornament in the head and a band of quatrefoils—two apiece to the panel—along the skirting. The fenestration is four-centred arched, lofty, and divided by three muntins (one central between two narrower muntins) in each bay into four narrow lights, the opening of which varies from 5 in. to 5½ in. only. The fenestration has very rich tracery with carved crockets and finials to the depth of 2 ft. 5 in. in the head. This ornament, in typical Midland fashion, is plain at the back, or east side. Two feet below the cord-line of the head-tracery the screen (all but the middle bay with the doors) is crossed by a transom of which the top edge (once enriched with cresting, now perished) is 3 ft. 4½ in. above the middle rail. In each light the under side of this transom has cinquefoil cusped ornament, the cord-line of which is on a level with that of the head-tracery in the screen doors. The doorway has a moulded, horizontal lintel, crested along the top, above a four-centred arch, cusped and feathered underneath, with solid carved spandrels, enclosing each a Tudor rose. The boutel-shafts are clustered and have polygonal moulded bases and caps. The springing level of the vaulting is some 11 ft. 6 in. from the bottom, and about 13 in. above the cord-line of the fenestration tracery. On the west front the tierceron vaulting ribs, with tracery between, are perfect but the solid panels behind the tracery have unfortunately been removed, a mistake which gives the vaulting a false and unsubstantial appearance. The breast-summer has a trail of vine ornament. Seven massive joists, running east and west, carried the rood-loft floor, now removed. The eastward projection, protruding under the chancel-arch into the chancel, is some 9 or 10 in. in excess of that of the vaulting on the west, the total width over all from east to west at the top being 6 ft. 8 in. The extremities of the [159]breast-summer in the nave are cut off abruptly, a fact which seems to indicate that the rood-loft extended continuously, 35 ft. 6 in. long, across the whole interior, aisles as well as nave.

Strelle Church: Rood-Screen

Sturton-le-Steeple.—The oak rood-screen, a fine example of fifteenth-century work, perished in a grievously destructive fire in 1901.

Sutton-on-Trent (28th October 1911).—In the arch between the south aisle of the nave and the south, or Mering chapel, stand a small, but handsome, oak screen and loft, dating between about 1505 and 1520. The screen, 7 ft. 6 in. long by 7 ft. 3 in. high, comprises a door at the north end and three rectangular compartments, centring at 1 ft. 1½ in. on the south. The wainscot stands 4 ft. 4 in. high, with rich tracery ornaments to the depth of 10 in. in its panel-heads. There is a trail along the middle rail. The fenestration head-tracery is 11 in. deep. The doorway has an opening 6 ft. 3 in. high by 2 ft. 9 in., under a depressed arch formed by hollowing the under part of the lintel, which is carved along the front, with a shield of the Mering arms (argent on a chevron sable three escallops or) in the middle. The door is complete and is divided into three panels centring from 9½ in. to 10½ in., the openings above its middle rail being without tracery in the head. The solid panel-work below rises to the same level as the wainscot, but the head-tracery, 9½ in. to 10 in. deep, in its panels is of a different design from the corresponding ornaments in the wainscot itself. The middle rail of the door has a trail like the wainscot.

The screen, being of rectangular construction, is of course unvaulted; but the underneath part, or soffit, of the westward overhanging loft is divided by mouldings into twelve rectangular panels ranging in a double row of six from north to south. The loft overhangs eastwards also, but the soffit under the hinder part is not divided into panels.[160] Both eastern and western parapets measure 3 ft. 2 in. high within the loft from the platform to the hand-rail top, the distance from front to back between eastern and western hand-rails being 7 ft. 4 in. The western parapet extends 12 ft. 10 in. long from side to side of the south aisle, and is fixed against the latter’s east wall, the breast-summer being supported at either end, at a level of 7 ft. 8 in. from the ground, on a massive stone corbel fixed in the said wall. The breast-summer has the remains of an inverted brattishing along the under edge, and a carved and pierced trail along its front. The parapet comprises eleven plain panels centring from 1 ft. 2 in. to 1 ft. 3 in. They are each 2 ft. 6 in. high, their plane being some 9 in. back from the utmost projection of the breast-summer and hand-rail. The stiles, almost as wide as the panels, are moulded along either edge and have each a strip of tracery up the middle between a pair of narrow and very shapely buttresses. The tops of the buttresses are cut away to enable a trail, much like that on the breast-summer, to be inserted immediately below the hand-rail. Above the latter, again, a long band of tracery (consisting of a series of rosette-centred quatrefoils within circles), set obliquely at an angle of 45, is fixed—possibly not its original position. The height over all from the top to the floor is 11 ft. 5 in. The east front of the loft, 12 ft. 10 in. long by 3 ft. 10 in. high, and 7 ft. 7 in. above the floor, was constructed as follows:—Two tiers of panels (uniformly semicircular-headed, with solid carved spandrels) ranging from end to end; four panels on the north, of which the northernmost centres at 1 ft. 9 in., the three others at 1 ft. 2 in.; next, a projecting bay, and to south of it three panels centring at 1 ft. 1½ in. There is an old bench for seats attached inside the loft to this south-east section. The bay, projecting some 10 in. in advance of the breast-summer, comprises three cants, the side cants 1 ft. 1½ in. wide at the bottom and diminishing to a point at the top, the central cant, toward the east, 2 ft. ½ in. wide at the bottom and widening upward to 3 ft. across at the level of[161] the hand-rail; and having a singular feature of an extra row of three more panels above it, the three measuring 2 ft. 6¼ in. from north to south by 1 ft. 6½ in. high. It will be realised that on this plan the middle cant would perceptibly tilt back westwards at the top; a defect satisfactorily provided against by the fact that the top of the parapet leans forward 5 in. (reckoned inside the loft) out of the perpendicular.

Such the Mering loft continued to be until shortly before Easter 1911, when, in respect of its most remarkable feature, it was wantonly mutilated. The projecting bay was then sawn off flush with the straight stretch of parapet on either hand of it, leaving an unsightly, gaping void—and all for what? Merely for the caprice of planting a huge, modern organ in the Mering chapel 10 in. more to the west than would have been possible had the loft been preserved intact! That is literally the sole advantage gained by sacrificing a monument of four hundred years’ standing, a monument not only unique of its kind in the county of Nottinghamshire, but exceedingly rare in any part of England whatever. Whether authorised by a faculty or not, in any event the proceeding reflects the utmost discredit on everybody concerned. When I visited the church, six or seven months afterwards, I found the dismembered parts of the bay left, like lumber, in the loft itself—or rather some of the parts, for a portion of the embattled ornament along the base of the bay, in continuation with the breast-summer battlements, was already missing. What safeguard is there to hinder the rest from disappearing in the same way?

For access to the rood-loft a polygonal turret staircase, cylindrical within, the steps turning on a newel, was built in the re-entering angle between the chancel and the nave’s south aisle. Subsequently, in the sixteenth century, the Mering chapel was erected, but the rood-turret was still retained and thus became internal. The entrance, at the north-west of the chapel, is a four-centred doorway 1 ft. 8 in. wide by 5 ft. 4 in. The stair, the stone steps of which are much worn, emerges upon the south loft platform at a height[162] of 8 ft. 2 in. from the chapel floor below. Two feet higher a rectangular passage, 5 ft. high by 2 ft. 2½ in. wide, under a timber horizontal lintel, led through the hollow of the wall northwards onto the south end of the rood-loft. The opening is now blocked, but its cill, about 31 in. long, is still visible near the west end of the south wall of the chancel; showing exactly where the passage issued at a level of 11 ft. 6 in. from the ground. No trace of the rood-loft itself remains, except that in the east sweep of the easternmost arch of the nave’s south arcade some of the stonework has been hacked away, presumably for the accommodation of the rood-loft’s western parapet. A two-centred, shallow recess in the north spandrel of the chancel arch has been a niche, accessible from the rood-loft, but must not be confounded with the door admitting to the latter from the rood-stair.

Rev. H. Hudson, Rector of Holy Trinity, Old Trafford, surmises that the object referred to in the Thoroton Society’s Proceedings, 1902, as “the curious frontage of what may have been a small gallery over the belfry, and an old clock-face” is more likely to have been the mediæval celure, or canopy of honour over the great rood. The object in question, 11 ft. long by 4 ft. 5½ in., consists of a panel, 3 ft. 6 in. high by 3 ft. wide, between two openings, each 3 ft. 2 in. wide. Mr. Hudson says that the most striking points about it are these:—(1) The framework of the panels shows traces of red and green in the hollow of the mouldings, whilst all over, in spite of a later disguise of paint and varnish, there can be detected remains of ancient colouring in black and white, beside the red and green; (2) a shallow battlement along the top rail; and (3) a series of six mortice-holes, all cut aslant, along the bottom rail, as though the panelling had once been fixed anglewise to form a canopy over the rood, in which case the so-called “clock-face” would be a nimbus of rays, and the aperture in the middle, mistaken for the place of the spindle of the clock hand, the hole for suspending the Lenten rood-veil or possibly the light before the rood.

[163]

Wilford.—A rood-stair turret, cylindrical on plan, occupies the re-entering angle between the chancel and the north aisle. It is surmounted by a plain horizontal parapet, level with those of the nave and chancel.

Willoughby-on-the-Wolds.—Part of the old oak screen remained in 1815 when Stretton wrote. It is now no more, but Rev. A. M. Y. Bayley, in 1902, stated his opinion that it was not until the “restoration” of the chancel in 1891 that all traces of screenwork disappeared.

Winkburn.—There is no structural chancel-arch, but marking the division is an open quasi-screen of four lofty posts (seventeenth, or possibly late-sixteenth century work). The pedimental space above, up to the roof, is filled with a plaster tympanum, against which is a painted representation of the Royal Arms, dated 1764.

Worksop (anciently Radford).—Priory of Austin Canons, surrendered 31st October 1538, the nave becoming thenceforward exclusively parochial. The churchwardens’ accounts furnish an interesting record of the various changes effected in the screening arrangements. In the year 1546–47 occurred payments to one Thomas Rose for “makyng hols for the parrtycyon at 5d. the day” for two days and a half; to one Elot for three days and a half “at makyng vp of the partycyon at the same rate,” and to one William Doncaster “at syche lyck warke.” The “parclose of Jesus quere with the lawft (loft) wher they sange” were sold for 3s. in the same year. During the reign of Edward VI. two carvers were employed in setting up the new parclose and also in “settyng vp the old parcloses and makyng a lytell voute” (vault); and a painter was paid 8d. for washing (i.e. whitewashing) the rood-loft. The rood-images were first ill-treated by darkening their faces, and subsequently taken down altogether. They were replaced under Queen Mary, and again removed after Elizabeth had come to the throne[164] (1559–60). In the same year the rood-loft was white-washed once more; it was taken down in 1564. In 1570, however, further items relating to the same were entered in the accounts:—Workmen at the taking down of the rood-loft received 2d.; the painter 8d. “for payntyng the rode-lofte before yt was takyn downe.” The vicar purchased the timber of the loft for 6s. 8d. A subsequent expenditure of 3s. 2d. “for makyng of a creste for the roode-lofte” in 1571 refers to the brattishing erected, according to royal mandate, along the top of the screen in place of the demolished rood-loft. And yet, still later, in 1637 a contractor covenanted to take down part of the loft.

From the above extracts two things are clear: firstly, that the rood-loft was of timber (the screen beneath it being most likely of the same material); and secondly, that after the dissolution there occurred a somewhat extensive rearrangement of the screens. Precisely what this rearrangement involved is far from clear. An examination of the exterior of the existing east end shows that the respond of the western crossing arch which projects inward 5 in. on the north and south alike, is cut away abruptly underneath at a height of some 8 ft. from the ground, affording a clear opening of 21 ft. across. That this is no wanton mutilation, but the original scheme (1103–1170), is proved by the fact that the attached angle-shaft is not carried down to be cut through with the respond itself, but that it finishes, just above the truncation, with a regular base, moulded and resting upon the square quoin. The significance of this detail is that the ritual quire, bounded by the pulpitum at the west, extended westwards at least as far as the western crossing. It probably included the whole of the first bay below the crossing, since the first arch of the arcade below the crossing remained walled until the “restoration,” in 1846. What appears to have happened, consequent upon the dissolution, is that the canons’ pulpitum was removed bodily, and the whole of the three bays below the crossing turned into the parochial chancel, the rood-screen remaining[165] where it had always stood, at the third pair of piers below the crossing, but being adapted—as a solid stone screen could not, but as this, a timber screen, could be—for the purposes of the parish chancel screen. Moreover, below the crossing the second and third arches of the nave arcades were then fitted with wooden parcloses to form side enclosures for the chancel. Until the “restoration” of 1846 a considerable part of these screens survived, at any rate, on the north side. An upright timber remained against the first pier of the north arcade below the crossing; while the next arch, the third below the crossing, was occupied by a parclose then standing complete, according to Rev. E. Trollope. Previously to the “restoration” there were evident traces of the former presence of the rood-screen, “portions of the capitals of the third pair of pillars having been cut away to admit of its erection.” Screens crossed the aisles in line with the rood-screen, the screen across the north aisle remaining complete until the “restoration” of 1846. Richard Nicholson, the architect responsible, writing in 1850, admits that, in the process of removing the galleries, pews, and other eighteenth-century incumbrances from the nave, “a few specimens of ancient oak ... screens were found in various parts of the church, but little that was worth preserving, except as objects of curiosity.” Thus everything was ruthlessly sacrificed, so that when the sweeping “restoration” was finished, it not only left the building denuded of its ancient fittings, but even obliterated such marks as had until that time survived to testify to the former existence of the fittings. A step, intersecting the nave floor, just to west of the third bay below the crossing, now alone remains to indicate the site of the rood-screen. (October 1911.)

Wysall (October 1911).—There is no chancel-arch, but across the chancel-opening stands an oak rood-screen dating from about 1440. Rectangular in construction, it comprises a wide compartment, opening 3 ft. 11 in., fitted with[166] gates, for the entrance, between two compartments on either hand, centring from 2 ft. 6 in. to 2 ft. 6½ in. and divided into two lights apiece. The middle rail is exceptionally massive, being 9 in. high; and its moulding is reproduced at the same level in the shape of returns to the standards, which appear to have had similarly moulded bases, only those, however, of the doorway jambs remaining. The standards are 6 in. wide by 7½ in. thick from front to back. The wainscot, about 3 ft. 7 in. high, consists of plain panels, without tracery, but the two southernmost ones are pierced with elevation-squints. The panel immediately south of the doorway has, near the south upper corner, a group of four chamfered round holes, about ⅞ in. in diameter, arranged lozengewise. The southernmost panel contains several holes, at different levels. On the left is a single round hole, chamfered; next is a chamfered aperture, about 2½ in. high, of two overlapping circles, the upper one larger than the lower; next, just under the rail, is a hole, measuring about 1½ in. either way, rectangular at the bottom and semi-circular at the top; and lastly, at the right-hand upper corner, is a group of three round holes, two and one. The fenestration openings are 5 ft. 6½ in. high, with Perpendicular tracery in the head to the depth of 2 ft. 3½ in. The four-centred arch of the doorway springs 2 or 3 in. lower. The tracery, plain and flat at the back, once consisted of two orders on its western face. The first order, of trefoil-headed ogees, has perished from the side openings, but part of it survives in the door-head in the shape of a superimposed moulding to the four-centred arch, crocketed along its upper edge. The lintel has a deep cavetto, filled at intervals by seven square Gothic pateras, which seem all except one to be modern. The screen was “restored” in 1873. The ground-cill has been wrongly removed and the gates consequently rehung some 2 or 3 in. too high, thus breaking the level of the middle-rail line and spoiling the logical coherence of the design. The screen now stands 9 ft. 11 in. high, and though the lintel extends 15 ft. 8 in. long from [167]wall to wall, the body of the screen is about 1 ft. too short for its place. In the north wall of the nave, at a distance of 7 ft. 9 in. from where the rood-screen now stands, is a chase (10 in. high by 4 in. wide) which may have held the support of the rood-loft front at its north end. In that case the opposite or south-west corner of the loft would have been carried on a post from the ground. A boarded tympanum existed “till quite lately”—so it was said in 1902. A ring in the ridge-piece of the nave roof, about 3 ft. from the east end of the nave, probably served for suspending the light before the Great Rood.

Photo: Mr. Aymer Vallance.

Wysall Church: Rood-Screen.

Note.—I regret that want of time and space compels me to omit all notice of some important screenwork, e.g. at Barton in Fabis and Tuxford.

In conclusion, I have to thank the Thoroton Society and Miss Frere for their courteous permission to reproduce the latter’s drawing of the south door of the pulpitum at Southwell (permission of which, however, I have not been able to take advantage); Mr. A. Lineker for kindly going to Blyth to photograph one of the screens there expressly for this work, and for permission to reproduce the same and also his beautiful photograph of the east elevation of the pulpitum at Southwell; to Messrs. Saunders & Saunders, architects, for permission to reproduce their drawing of Holme church screens; to Mr. Harry Gill and Mr. E. L. Guilford for photographs and valuable notes, and the Rev. Dr. Cox, F.S.A., Rev. H. Hudson, and Mr. T. M. Blagg, F.S.A., for much useful information; and lastly, the clergy, who have kindly permitted me to take notes, measurements, and photographs in a number of churches throughout the county.

Aymer Vallance.

[168]

## THE CIVIL WAR IN NOTTINGHAMSHIRE
By Everard L. Guilford, M.A.

The Civil War has so unique a character that its study gives us a far deeper insight into the thoughts and feelings of the average Englishman than we should gain by turning our attention to any other outstanding episode in the history of England.

Though the war was general throughout England, yet it was really composed of a number of small local wars, which went on irrespective of the general war, except when the tide of this greater drifted the armies within the sphere of the less.

To understand clearly the nature of the Civil War in any one county, it is necessary to grasp the basic characteristics of the war in general, and to gauge the extent of local influences. There is a great temptation to compare the Civil War with the French Revolution. The ends were similar, in that both resulted in the execution of the reigning monarch and the institution of a republic. And yet beyond this there is little or no similarity. After studying the French Revolution, we feel that the Civil War was merely playing at revolution, and when we come to examine the facts more closely, we find that our Civil War cannot be called a revolution at all. It is only a rebellion—a great rebellion. Here were no downtrodden rebels fighting for the wealth of the upper classes, but instead a body of intellectual and prosperous men struggling for the retention of what they believed to be their religious and political rights. It was not a war of classes. Without the religious differences there would[169] have been no war: for without the religious fervour there could have been no Parliamentary force of sufficient strength to combat the inborn and ingrained reverence for the name of King. Elsewhere in Europe, where religion had been the mainspring of war, brutality and cruelty had been ever to the front; but this was not so in England, for, to quote Mr. G. M. Trevelyan, “two minorities were fighting under critical inspection for the favour of all England, and when rivals duel they take care not to wound their mistress.”

Local jealousy might cause cruelty, but, as a rule, the war was as kind and merciful as a war can be. Another point that needs emphasis is, that it was a war between two minorities. The majority of Englishmen took no active part in the struggle—at any rate at first—though later the non-combatants found that they were plundered by both sides alike, and consequently joined that which they believed would best protect their homes. One class held aloof altogether. The hired labourer had no interest either way. If he joined in the war, it was either because of local influence or because he was forced into service by the ever-present pressgang.

We have no space here to give an outline of the events preceding the outbreak of the Civil War; nor indeed would such an account be pertinent to the matter in hand.

Charles’s failure in foreign wars was followed by an inevitable desire for money, which was not forthcoming by constitutional means. Forced loans, free gifts, and ship-money were resorted to, with little success. Much bitterness was caused, and soon there appeared a small party of men who realised that if the liberty of England was to be saved, Charles must be released from the chains thrown round him by such counsellors as Strafford. This body of constitutionalists, as they considered themselves, included men like the Earl of Essex, Pym, Hampden, and others, who played prominent parts during the coming war.

Feelings gradually became more embittered, and when in March 1642 Parliament tried to deprive Charles of his command of the militia, the quarrel became irreconcilable.[170] Charles was in the North, and on April 23 arrived at Hull, where a large store of munition was awaiting transhipment to London. The Governor of the town, Sir John Hotham, refused the King admission to the town, and Charles called on the trained bands of the neighbouring counties to help him to force his way into this rebellious seaport.

The impracticability of the whole question is well seen when, on June 2, the Parliament sent their Nineteen Propositions to the King. No possible basis of discussion could result from so one-sided a document.

Negotiations of a kind were entered into, and Charles undertook to make no further attempt to capture Hull until July 27. Meanwhile he visited Doncaster, Newark, Nottingham, and Leicester. At Newark, where he reviewed the county trained bands, he showed his trust in this loyal borough—a trust which events proved was not misplaced. His speech to the citizens of Newark was as follows:—

“Your honest resolutions and affections to me and your country, for the defence of my person and the laws of the land, have been and are so notable, that they have drawn me hither only to thank you: I go to other places to confirm and undeceive my subjects, but am come hither only to thank and encourage you: you who have made the best judgment of happiness by relying on that foundation which the experience of so many hundred years hath given such proof of—the assurance and security of the law: and assure yourselves when laws shall be altered by any other authority than that by which they were made, your foundations are destroyed, and though it seems at first but to take away my power, it will quickly swallow all your interest. I ask nothing of you (though your demeanour gives me good evidence that you are not willing to deny), but to preserve your own affections to the religion and laws established. I will justify and protect those affections and will live and die with you in that quarrel.”

To obtain a clear understanding of this war, a few statistics are necessary. The population of England was about five millions, of whom six-sevenths lived south of the Trent, and out of this whole number not more than 2½ per cent. took any part in the struggle. London, of course, was the largest town, with 500,000 inhabitants, and Bristol and Norwich were next, with some 30,000 each, while no[171] town in the north had half this number. Roughly stated, it may be said that the strength of the King lay in the north and west, and that of the Parliament in the south and east. Thus it will be seen that the predominance, as far as population (and consequently commercial prosperity) went, was with the Parliament. Do not let us imagine for one moment that the Houses of Parliament were unanimous in their antagonism to the Royalists. Professor Firth calculates that 30 peers supported the Parliament and 80 the King. Of the Lower House, 300 were Parliamentarians and 175 Royalists.

All through the struggle, the difficulty on both sides was to find recruits for the army. There was no standing army and no regular troops, with the exception of a few garrisons. The only forces were the trained bands, and, except those in London, who were strongly Parliamentarian, these took little or no share in the struggle, refusing in most cases to leave the counties in which they had been raised. Thus the party with the longest purse was sure to win. At first the generosity of his adherents gave Charles a great financial predominance, but in the end the steady flow of wealth from the commercial centres threw the balance on to the other side.

Parliament tried to raise an army and pay for it by means of weekly assessments on the counties. Nottinghamshire was assessed at £187, 10s., Leicestershire at the same figure, Derbyshire at £175, while Lincolnshire had to find £812 and London £10,000. In Nottinghamshire the raising of regiments was entrusted to Sir Francis Thornhaugh of Fenton, near Sturton le Steeple; Sir Francis Molineux, who declined to act; and Mr. Francis Pierrepont, son of the Earl of Kingston.

Before we go any further, it may not be amiss to give a list of the gentry who sided with the King, and of those who were Parliamentarians.

Royalists: the Earl of Newcastle and his son, the Earl of Kingston and his eldest son, Lord Chesterfield and all[172] his family, Lord Chaworth, Mr. Golding and other Catholic gentry, Sir John Byron and all his brothers, Sir John Savile, Sir Gervase Eyre, Sir John Digby, Sir Matthew Palmer, Sir Thomas Williamson, Sir Roger Cooper, Sir W. Hickman, Sir Hugh Cartwright, Sir T. Willoughby, Sir Thomas Smith, Sir Thomas Blackwell, and members of the following lesser families: Markham, Parkyns (Thomas and his son Isham), Tevery, Pearce, Wood, Staunton, Saunderson, Moore, Mellish, Butler, Rolleston, Lascelles, Neville, Burnell, Holder, Wyld, Leek, Clay, Gilby, Lee, Shipman, North, Apsley, Colley, Newport, Holland, Hacker, Holden, Pocklington, and Green.

Parliamentarians: Mr. Sutton (afterwards Lord Lexington), Sir Gervase Clifton (who became a royalist), Mr. William Pierrepont (who did not serve in Nottinghamshire), Mr. Thomas Hutchinson and his sons John and George, Mr. Henry Ireton, Mr. Edward Whalley, Mr. Gilbert Millington, Mr. Francis Hacker, Sir Francis Thornhaugh and his son, Mr. Pigott, Mr. Wright, Mr. Widmerpool, Mr. Scrimshire, and Mr. Acklom of Wiseton Hall.

From this list it will readily be seen that Nottinghamshire was strongly Royalist—so predominantly so, that it is difficult to account for the fact that Charles’s summons to his supporters to meet him at Nottingham was so scantily answered. This summons was issued from York on August 12, and the meeting was to be on August 22, when the standard would be raised.

At this point we are met by several problems which require consideration. Why did Charles raise the standard of war before he was ready to fight? Why did he choose Nottingham for that purpose? And why was he so badly supported in this very Royalist county?

At no time during the war did Charles ever really want to fight. He was the victim of circumstances: he was blind to facts, and he under-estimated his opponents’ strength, as they did his. He thought, doubtless, that such a direct challenge as the raising of the standard would frighten the[173] Houses into submission. The sacred name of King would be a rallying point. Men might criticise, but they would not fight against their King. The reverence for the person of the monarch, which had reached its height during Elizabeth’s reign, was still great, notwithstanding a steady decline, and there is no doubt that many men were influenced by this feeling. They agreed with the theory of the Parliament’s demands; but when it came to practice, they would fight for their King, even against their better judgment. Charles hoped that the challenge would prove a lifebelt in the sea of his difficulties; he found that it was a millstone. But this does not explain why he raised the standard before he had an army. He felt that many places, and especially the seaports, were slipping away from him, and he hoped to save them by this step. His hope was false, and before long the fleet and all the great seaports were in the hands of his enemies. Charles’s choice of Nottingham was probably due, in the first place, to his belief in the loyalty of the gentry in the county, and, in the second place, he had doubtless heard that Nottingham was a strong military position, with its Castle standing high above the Trent, which was only to be crossed at the Hethbeth Bridge—a position easily defended—and possibly also at Wilford. He must have been very disappointed to find that the river was very low, and was easily fordable at various points close to the town. Of the ruinous condition of the Castle and town defences he must have been aware, for he was no stranger to the town. The reason for the bad support accorded him is difficult to discover. Perhaps most of the gentry were already at Nottingham, but if so, they had brought few followers; probably many wished to remain neutral, though later events caused them to throw in their lot with Charles.

Much has been written of the raising of the standard, and here, since space is limited, we must not go into details. The King arrived at Nottingham on August 19, and almost immediately was compelled to set out for Coventry,[174] which, he heard, was in danger of capture. His journey was futile, and he returned crestfallen on August 22. That evening the standard was raised, probably on a slight eminence in a field to the north of the Castle, now in the grounds of the General Hospital, and after the ceremony it was carried into the Castle, this procedure being repeated every day till the 25th.

Charles’s position was not enviable. He had thrown down the formal challenge, and was now finding, when too late, that he had not the forces at his back to uphold such a challenge. The general feeling of most Englishmen at this time was truly expressed by Lord Savile when he wrote: “I would not have the King trample on the Parliament, nor the Parliament lessen him so much as to make a way for the people to rule us all.”

A Parliamentary army of 20,000 men was stationed at Northampton, heavily outnumbering the forces assembled at Nottingham. Prince Rupert was stationed at Queensborough, between Leicester and Melton Mowbray, with his cavalry. Unable to fight, Charles fell back upon negotiations. Though he had little hope of any success by this means, he recognised that by forcing the Parliament to refuse offers of peace, he would bring over to his side many who viewed the prospect of open war with horror. The first message left Nottingham on August 25, in the hands of the Earls of Southampton and Dorset, Sir John Culpepper, and Sir William Uvedale. Even before any answer was received, Charles had issued some “Instructions to his Commissioners of Array,” which show what he thought would be the result of the deputation. The expected happened. The Houses sent an unfavourable answer, and further messages were sent, though all this time both sides were preparing for war. At first Charles would not avail himself of the services of the Roman Catholics, who were only too willing to lend him aid and money. This was a wise step, for Catholics were looked upon with considerable hatred, and their adhesion would result in the alienation of[175] many. Eventually, however, the King gave way, for Catholic money was as good as any other, besides being more plentiful in this time of scarcity. The leading Catholic in this district was Mr. Golding, who held large estates at Colston Bassett.

On September 10 the Earl of Essex joined the Parliamentarian forces at Northampton, and, had he marched at once on Nottingham, it is difficult to see how Charles could have avoided capture. But Essex dallied for some unknown reason, and the golden opportunity to end the war at one stroke passed by and never came again. Charles saw his danger, and recognised the fact that Nottingham was no longer a safe shelter. On September 13 he marched to Derby and thence to Shrewsbury, where he was able to collect such forces as placed him more nearly on an equality, numerically, with his opponents.

Freed from the presence of the King, Nottingham was open to occupation by either party. The citizens were divided in their opinions, and neither party was yet strong enough to take possession of the town.

Thus matters continued until the Battle of Edgehill, after which Sir John Digby, the High Sheriff of Nottinghamshire, made an attempt to secure the county for the King. A meeting was called at Newark, at which all the gentry were requested to be present. Though the best interests of the county were the ostensible object of this meeting, the Parliamentarian gentry grew suspicious and absented themselves, and it was as well for them that they did so, for it was the intention of Sir John Digby to capture all those who were likely to oppose him. Gradually John Hutchinson had come to the front, and henceforward he took over the command of affairs locally in the interests of the Parliament, aided by a committee with whom he was not always in agreement. His family lived at Owthorpe, and those who wish to see him through the idealising eyes of his wife cannot do better than refer to the famous memoirs. Recognising the fruitlessness of all negotiations, Hutchinson[176] summoned all those well affected to the cause of Parliament to come to him at Nottingham. By Christmas 1642 a sufficient number were assembled for the fortification of the town to be pushed on apace. New gates replaced those which had fallen down, and Nottingham was made as strong as the shortage of time and men permitted. Hutchinson with a small force occupied the Castle.

Meanwhile the Royalists were occupying and strengthening Newark, which was in better repair than Nottingham. The Duke of Newcastle garrisoned it with a force under the leadership of Sir John Henderson. This occupation of Newark by the Royalists was of paramount importance, for there were but three regular fords on the Trent, one at Nottingham, one at Newark, and the third at “Wilden Ferry,” in Derbyshire, where the Cavendish Bridge is now, and further, Newark served to divide the parliamentary forces in South Lincolnshire from those in Yorkshire under Lord Fairfax, besides acting as an ever-present thorn in the side of the Parliamentary garrison at Nottingham. Soon after Newark was garrisoned, an attack was made on it by the Lincolnshire forces, but this was beaten off. This attack was followed by another, planned on a larger scale, which came within an ace of being successful. It was decided to make an assault on Newark from all sides at Candlemas 1643. Forces from Nottingham and Derby, under the command of Colonel John Hutchinson and Sir John Gell respectively, were to attack the town on the western side, while the Lincolnshire forces, under one Ballard, were to attack on the east. Ballard was to be commander of the whole force. This soldier was a man whose days of prosperity were behind him, and who, having many friends among the Newarkers, was unwilling to be the cause of their undoing. He took up his position on Beacon Hill, and began to bombard the town at a distance too great to effect any appreciable damage. However, matters were going well for the attackers: a[177] street had been captured on the east, and on the west the townsmen had been driven from their position. At this point Ballard hesitated, and refused to move. The Newarkers were quick to profit by his weakness, and the enemy were driven off. But this narrow escape served as a warning to the Cavaliers, who began immediately to strengthen the defences of Newark. Shelford Manor and Wiverton Hall were fortified, and Sir Roger Cooper and the Duke of Newcastle put their houses, at Thurgarton and Welbeck respectively, into a state of defence; while about the same time Newstead Priory, Felley Priory, and Kirkby Hardwick were occupied by the Royalists. In May of this year Oliver Cromwell first appears in this district. His forces and those of Lincolnshire were allied, and in the several skirmishes that took place, the Newarkers appear always to be the losers. Cromwell’s force numbered 2000 men, and we find there the beginnings of that discipline and uprightness which was to be later so important a factor in the organisation of the army of the eastern association and the new model. The Kingdomes Weekly Intelligencer, referring to this force, says: “No man swears, but he pays his 12d.; if he be drunk, he is set in the stocks; or worse, if one calls the other ‘Roundhead,’ he is cashiered, in so much that the countries where they come leap for joy of them, and come in and join with them.” What a contrast this is to the irregularities practised in many of the Royalist camps, where debauchees like Goring were in command! There were many earnest men who withheld their hands from their swords rather than serve in a force commanded by such creatures as these. Nor was this looseness the only weakness in the Royalist army. The King was unwilling to entrust the whole command to any one man, and so, while making Lindsey general-in-chief, he had left the cavalry in the hands of Prince Rupert. Concerted action was impossible, jealousies were prevalent, and distrust and disorder resulted. It was about this time that the Queen arrived from abroad with help for the King.[178] In June she was at Newark, whence she sent the following letter:—

“My Dearest Heart,—I received just now your letter by my Lord Saville, who found me ready to go away, staying but for one thing, for which you will pardon two days’ stop, it is to have Hull and Lincoln. Young Hotham having been put in prison by order of the Parliament, is escaped, and hath sent to 260 (the Earl of Newcastle?) that he would cast himself into his arms, and that Hull and Lincoln should be rendered. He is gone to his father, and 260 writes for your answer; so that I think I shall go home Friday or Saturday, and shall go lie at Werton (Wiverton), and from thence to Ashby, where we will resolve which way to take; and I will stay there a day, because that the march of the day before will have been somewhat great, and also to know how the enemy march, all their forces at Nottingham, at present, being gone to Leicester and Derby, which makes us believe it is to intercept our passage. As soon as we have arrived I will send you word. At this present I think it right to let you know the state in which we march, and what I leave behind for the safety of Lincolnshire and Nottinghamshire. I leave two thousand foot and wherewithal to arm five hundred more; twenty companies of horse, all to be under the command of Charles Cavendish, whom the gentlemen of the country have desired me not to carry with me against his will, for he desired extremely not to go. The enemy have left within Nottingham one thousand. I carry with me three thousand foot, thirty companies of horse and dragoons, six pieces of cannon, and two mortars. Harry Germyn commands the forces that go with me, as colonel of my guard; and Sir Alexander Lesly the foot under him, and Gerard the horse, and Robert Legge the artillery, and her she majesty generalissimo over all and extremely diligent, with one hundred and fifty waggons of baggage to govern. In case of battle have a care that no troop of Essex’s army incommode us: for the rest I hope that I shall be strong enough, for we have had the experience at Nottingham, one of our troops having beaten six of theirs, and made them fly. I have received your proclamation, or declaration, which I wish you had not made, being extremely disadvantageous for you, for you show too much fear, and do not what you had resolved upon. Farewell, my dear heart. From Newark, 27th June 1643.”

Meanwhile Colonel Hutchinson at Nottingham was becoming apprehensive for the safety of the town, which was now surrounded by Royalist garrisons. Moreover, the energetic Newarkers were always ready to take advantage of any weakness Nottingham might show. In these circumstances, Colonel Hutchinson was despatched to London to inform Parliament of the danger, with the result that Cromwell, Hubbard, Lord Grey, and Sir John Gell were[179] ordered to unite their forces at Nottingham. Besides the strengthening of the town, this order had another object. It was known that the Queen would pass close by Nottingham in her attempt to join the King, and it was hoped that she might be intercepted. With this object in view, the force of some 5000 men, now in Nottingham, were divided as stated in the Queen’s letter, some being stationed at Derby, and others at Leicester. All these precautions proved futile, for after waiting two days at Southwell, in doubt whether to attack Nottingham or not, the Queen passed on to Ashby-de-la-Zouch.

The Queen’s escape was followed by the departure of the troops concentrated at Nottingham.

The Newarkers were by no means content to wait to be attacked. They preferred to fill in their time by annoying their opponents as far as lay in their power. During May an escort had been sent to Oxford to convoy some arms, and this force, some 2000 in number, on its return made an unsuccessful attack on Northampton. Later in the year a night march to Melton Mowbray resulted in the capture of the Parliamentary Committee of Leicester, who were there with the object of raising money.

About the middle of 1643 two changes of leaders took place. Sir John Meldrum superseded Lord Grey, and Sir John Henderson surrendered the governorship of Newark to Sir Richard Byron. On July 20 Lord Willoughby of Parham had taken Gainsborough by surprise from the Royalists, and on the 25th Meldrum and Cromwell were ordered to go to his assistance, for he was menaced by a force of Newarkers under Charles Cavendish, the Royalist commander in Notts and Lincolnshire. Gainsborough was an important place, for, to quote Mr. Gardiner: “It stood in the way of an attack by the Royalists on Lincoln or of an attempt to help Newark.” Mr. Gardiner continues: “Cromwell and Meldrum joined hands at Grantham, and a body of troops met them from Lincoln at North Scarle. On the 28th they arrived at Gainsborough, and the battle[180] was fought to the S.E. of the town, and resulted in the defeat of the Royalists and relief of Gainsborough.

“A Royalist force is reported, and Cromwell advances to meet it. He finds it is the army under Newcastle, and has to retire to Gainsborough, which he leaves to its fate, and on the 30th it capitulates. This battle was the turning point of the war, for it showed the Parliament where to look for cavalry and a great leader.” During this battle Charles Cavendish was slain, a great loss to the Royalists.

After this Sir John Meldrum joins the main army and leaves Lieut.-Colonel Hutchinson in command at Nottingham, which was neglected by Parliament and left to its own devices, for even troops commanded by such local men as Henry Ireton and Whalley are taken from this neighbourhood.

Before proceeding to detail the events at Nottingham, it may be as well to give a description of the condition of the Castle at this time, which Bailey quotes in his Annals of Nottinghamshire:—

“The castle was built upon a rock, and nature had made it capable of very strong fortification; but the buildings were very ruinous and uninhabitable, neither affording room to lodge soldiers nor provisions. The castle stands at one end of the town, upon such an eminence as commands the chief streets. There had been enlargements made to this castle after the first building of it. There was a strong tower, which they called the old tower, built upon the top of all the rock.... In the midway to the top of this tower, there is a little piece of rock on which a dovecote has been built; but the Governor took down the roof of it, and made it a platform for two or three pieces of ordnance, which commanded some streets and all the meadows better than the higher tower. Under that tower, which was the old castle, there was a larger castle, where there had been several towers, and many noble houses, but the most of them were down, only it was situated upon an ascent of the rock, and so stood a pretty height above the streets. And there were the ruins of an old pair of gates, with turrets on each side. Before the castle, the town was on one side of a close (Standard Hill and parts adjacent), which commanded the fields approaching the town; which close the Governor afterwards made a platform. Behind it was a place called the Park, that belonged to the castle, but then had neither deer nor trees in it.... In the whole rock, there were many large caverns, where a great magazine and many hundred soldiers might have been disposed, if they had been cleansed and prepared for it, and might have been kept secure from[181] any danger of firing the magazines by any mortar pieces shot against the castle. It was not flanked, and there were no works about it, when Mr. Hutchinson undertook it, but only a little breastwork before the outmost gate. It was as ill provided as fortified, there being but 10 barrels of powder, 1150 pounds of butter and as much cheese, 11 quarters of bread corn, 7 beeves, 214 flitches of bacon, 560 fishes, and 15 hogsheads of beer.”

The position of the town was critical. Girded with fortifications which could only be sufficiently defended by 3000 men, Nottingham was riddled through and through by jealousies and dissensions. Hutchinson was not popular, and many Parliamentarians disapproved of his carrying the cannons up into the Castle. Eventually a meeting of the townspeople was held, at which Colonel Pierrepont propounded these three alternatives: (1) To leave the town and go to other garrisons; (2) to stay in the Castle; (3) to stay in the town works and have their throats cut. Many left the town, and but 300 joined Hutchinson in the Castle. These were all good men, and when the place had been provisioned, the position was one of no little strength. The town defences were left in the hands of the municipality. Of the garrison in the castle two-thirds were quartered in the town.

Before long Newcastle sent Major Cartwright with a summons to surrender. He was met with a refusal, and a similar answer was carried back by Mr. Ayscough, whom Sir Richard Byron sent with the offer of a bribe to the Governor.

Meanwhile hostilities had been continuing round Gainsborough, with the result that the Royalists suffered a severe loss by the deaths of the Earl of Kingston and Colonel Thomas Markham of Ollerton.

On the morning of September 19, Nottingham Castle narrowly escaped capture. During the night a force of 600 Newarkers, led by Sir Richard Byron, had gained access to the town, surprised the 200 of the garrison who were quartered outside the Castle, and either captured or drove them off. Thus Hutchinson found his garrison reduced to 100, and the enemy at his gates. For five days the town[182] was plundered and the Castle fired at from the tower of St. Nicholas’s Church. On September 23 the invaders withdrew, and at the same time help arrived from Derby and Leicester, but the Royalists and their prisoners were allowed to depart, leaving Captain Hacker[50] with a small force to hold the newly erected fort at the Trent Bridge. The menace of this force annoyed the Governor, who planned its dispersal. Acting contrary to the advice of the commander of the Derby forces, Hutchinson began to lay siege to this bridge fort, and after five days he was so far successful that Hacker withdrew to Newark, after breaking down two arches of the bridge behind him. But Hutchinson’s troubles were by no means at an end. Unpopular, and at odds with the Committee, he was called upon, in January 1644, to face another attack upon the Castle. This time the attack was made by some 3000 troops, 1000 of whom entered the town, with intent to occupy it, another 1000 remained outside to guard against any attack by neighbouring Roundhead troops, while the third body, recruited largely from the garrisons of Belvoir and Wiverton, were to gain possession of the all-important passage over the Trent. The town force, led by Sir Charles Lucas, was surprised in the streets of the town by a fierce attack of the garrison, and fled without making much attempt to fight. A month later the Newarkers made an attempt to gain possession of the Trent Bridge by entering in the disguise of market women. Their ruse failed, and more than half of this heroic force of nine were slain.

But this state of affairs could not go on. It was incredible that the Parliament would allow themselves to be the butt of frequent attacks without making some reprisals. Early in 1644 the Committee of both kingdoms made up their minds to deal severely with Newark. Sir John Meldrum, a Scotsman, was placed in command of the expedition, and the forces of Nottingham and Derby were[183] to co-operate with him. The condition of the garrison was not enviable. Reduced in numbers by the departure of several expeditionary forces, it was composed largely of the townspeople and neighbouring gentry, while in addition to their fewness of numbers, the capture of a food convoy rendered it likely that soon they would be in want of provisions. The besieging army numbered about 8500 men; but for all this the Newarkers were not going to await their fate without doing all in their power to annoy the enemy, for early in March a sudden sortie proved very disastrous to the besiegers. But notwithstanding this, Sir John Meldrum expected almost daily to gain possession of the town. But it was fated otherwise, and the minister of fate was Prince Rupert, whom the King sent to do his utmost to save the loyal borough. That he was not expected by the Parliamentarians is evident, for his rapid cavalry attack delivered from Coddington was successful, and the siege was raised before Sir John Meldrum had time to find out the size of the force opposed to him.

The disputed ownership of Newark settled, Prince Rupert turned his attention to Nottingham, and sent a demand for the surrender of that town. The answer was a direct refusal; and evidently the Royalists did not consider themselves strong enough, for though they advanced to within three miles of that town, they changed their course and journeyed to Oxford. But the Parliament had received a severe scare, for when it was thought that Rupert might arrive at Nottingham any minute, the Parliamentarians set to work to strengthen the fortifications with the utmost haste. The meadows were flooded, and even on Sunday no pause was permitted. But the moral effect of the relief of Newark was so great, that even Mrs. Hutchinson, who saw little good even in the majority of the supporters of the Parliament and none at all in the Royalists, wrote: “Such a blow was given to the Parliament interest, in all these parts, that it might well discourage the ill-affected, when even the most zealous were cast down, and gave up all for lost.”

[184]

The Newarkers were wise. They were not buoyed up with any false opinion of their future security. The Parliament was still as determined as ever, and in July, the Earl of Manchester was quartered at Retford watching Newark. Mr. Cornelius Brown quotes the following letter from one Will Goode in the army of the Earl. It refers to events which took place between July 27 and August 16, 1644:—

“On Monday morning came an alarm to our quarters (at Retford) from Tuxford that our horse there were beaten up with great loss to us, whereupon Lieutenant-General Cromwell speedily rode thitherwards to prove the truth, whereupon he found that Newark, by obscure ways through the forest, unknown to our horse guards, being two troops which stood two miles from Tuxford towards Newark, had fallen suddenly into Tuxford upon our three troops, of whom they killed a lieutenant and a quartermaster and took with them eight prisoners and some horse, and so speedily retreated to Newark. On Monday, his Lordship advanced from Retford to Gainsborough, and then rode to Lincoln, where he yet remains, having sent 2000 horse and 150 foot to lie at Beckingham and Claypole, and some troops within two or three miles of Newark to hold them in.... Our horse lies between Newark and Belvoir, and will prevent all relief on this side of the Trent to that town. Newark now expects a siege.”

The first of the Royalist garrisons in the valley of the Trent which fell into the Parliament’s hands was Thurgarton Hall, the residence of Sir Roger Cooper, which was carried by assault by the force under Colonel Thornhaugh, which had assembled at Mansfield and marched by way of Thurgarton to assist in the watching of Newark.[51] This Royalist disaster occurred at the end of 1644. In Nottingham itself the quarrel between Hutchinson and the Committee had by the beginning of 1645 become so acute that in April we find both parties in London pleading their cause at headquarters. Hutchinson’s visit was cut short by the receipt of the news that the Newarkers had captured the fort at Trent Bridge. One who signs himself T. H., writing to the Weekly Account, April 16–23, 1645, says:—

“I doubt not but you have heard of the sad condition of these parts; the King’s Forces from Newark of late have been more active than ever, and their[185] opposition as little. They have plundered us of our Goods and Cattle on this (the south) side of the River, and on Saturday last a Partee of the Newark Horse and Dragoons, when it was not yet duske, fell on Nottingham Bridge, which is not many furlongs from the Town, cut off the Centinell, and surprised the whole Guard, except 3 men which narrowly escaped; the whole Guard consisted of 33 Persons, those that got not away were most inhumanly cut to pieces, notwithstanding desire of Quarter, &c., and it may please God that some of those which committed this massacre, may be met with in the like Hands.”

This was a serious matter, for the loss of this fort closed the road for all provisions into Nottingham from the south. Accordingly, Colonel Rossiter was sent with a force of nearly 2000 men to recapture the position. No fight was necessary, for the Newarkers, recognising the numerical superiority of the enemy, and hearing that the Scotch army would shortly arrive at Nottingham, retreated home.

The Weekly Account, May 4, 1645, states: “The Scots will keep their rendezvous at Nottingham to-morrow”; but it seems doubtful whether they did, for it is the middle of June when The Kingdomes Weekly Intelligence announces: “The Scots are come to Nottingham with 7000 foot, and 4000 horse, expecting command of their removal.” As a matter of fact, they appear to have left on July 1.

Meanwhile the King and Prince Rupert had determined to capture Leicester, the most important Parliamentary position in the Midlands. A large force was collected, among them the celebrated regiment of Newark cavalry led by Colonel Page, and by the beginning of June the town was in Royalist hands. But their triumph was short-lived, for on June 14 the battle of Naseby proved that the time of the Parliament had come, and that the question now was how long the few isolated Royalist garrisons could hold out. Of these towns Newark was the most important, and the numbers of its garrison were swelled by the arrival of many fugitives from Naseby. With increased strength came greater activity, and the raids of the Newarkers became even more galling to the Parliament than they had hitherto been. The energetic forces dashed in all[186] directions, turning up where they were least expected and leaving before any concerted attack could be made upon them. Among their exploits at this time was the capture of Welbeck House, together with 200 prisoners. Each month saw special efforts being made to capture this energetic town, which received fresh encouragement on August 22 from a short visit of the King, who passed through on his way to Huntingdon. The town was now governed by Sir Richard Willis, who had succeeded to the post in 1644. Under his leadership the raids on the surrounding country were continued until October, when on the 4th the arrival of the King gave a new turn to affairs. Charles’s object appears to have been to make his enemies leave the Welsh border and compel them to attack him in a strong position from which he could escape whenever he might wish to do so. That the Parliament did not look on the matter in the same light, is evident from the following extract from The Diary, or an Exact Journal, October 23–30:—

“Major General Poyntz hath blocked up Newark on the North side of it; and to make his men more circumspect and eager in the siege thereof, hee is certainly assured that the King is there, and with him the two German Princes Rupert and Maurice: the London Brigade, under the Command of Colonel Man Waring is now there with him, with whom are joyned the Horse and Foot of Nottinghamshire under the Command of Colonell Thornehaugh. On the South Side of the Towne Colonell Rossiter is quartered with his owne Regiment; and he hath with him the Northampton Horse under the Command of Colonell Lidcot, so that it is conceived, it is altogether impossible for the king to escape through them either by force or stealth, for hee hath not with him above 800 Horse, the Truth of which may easily be collected by the strength which he brought with him into Newarke, which were at the most not above 1800 horse, sixteen hundred whereof were so sorely shaken at Sherbourne, that it is thought very few of them returned to Newarke, to bring the sadde tydings of their overthrow, so that he hath now but 200 remaining with him, which being put to the troopes of the Garrison, which are but nine troopes, and are 3 score in every troope doe make up just 800.”

But dissension was about to appear in the little garrison of Newark. Prince Rupert had lost Bristol, and had, on this score, been abused. Contrary to the King’s wishes, he came to Newark to explain his side of the question. The[187] position was further complicated by the King choosing this time to supplant Sir Richard Willis in the governorship of the town, and to put in his place Lord Belasyse. This, taken with other private jealousies, brought matters to a climax. The Princes, Rupert and Maurice, sided with Willis when at a feast given by Lord Belasyse the quarrel became open. “Thereupon they all drew in the King’s presence, and within an hour the Princes, Genl. Willis, and many others cald to Horse, and went away that night on the South side of the Town (to Wiverton Hall). Colonell Rossiter lyeing on that side must needs know of their action. Bellasis is made Governor of Newarke, the onely creature of note with his Majesty.

“Newark is full of discontent, and most of the gentry wavering, desire their liberty.”

The sequel of this quarrel was that the discontented Royalists applied to Parliament for passes to leave the country, promising not to take any further part in the war. Their request was granted, yet not all seem to have taken advantage of it, for some at any rate were reconciled to the King. Prince Rupert, however, passes altogether from the local stage.

At the end of October, Poyntz undertook the suppression of the Royalist garrisons at Shelford and Wiverton. Shelford, commanded by Lord Stanhope, son of the Earl of Chesterfield, refused to surrender. A bloody struggle was the result, and it was not until their general was slain that the plucky defenders capitulated. Within a week Wiverton and Welbeck, awed by the fate of Shelford, surrendered without waiting to be stormed. Thus was Newark becoming gradually surrounded by hostile garrisons, and now Belvoir Castle alone remained in Royalist hands. The King realised that if he wished to escape before the net was drawn quite tightly round Newark he must delay no longer, and on November 6, Colonel-General Poyntz had to report “that the King was come from Newarke and gotten by him.”

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Siege was laid to Belvoir Castle, its outworks were captured, and its water-supply almost cut off, yet it appears to have held out for two months, until December 30, when the Governor, Sir Gervase Lucas, surrendered.

Meanwhile a formal siege had been laid to Newark, and the town was all but surrounded; for now that the Earl of Montrose was defeated in Scotland, and the Royalists in the west of England dispersed, all that remained to be done was to capture the King and his towns of Oxford and Newark.

Mr. Cornelius Brown, in his History of Newark, draws attention to the fact that while the King was at Newark he was in communication with the Scottish leaders—a fact to be noticed in view of the course events afterwards took.

This last siege of Newark was a much more serious affair than either of the others had been. A large army was collected for the purpose, and an attempt was made to surround the town and establish a blockade, with the object of preventing the introduction of provisions into it. The arrangement of the besieging forces can be well seen from the contemporary plan. Colonel Rossiter at Balderton, and General Poyntz at Farndon, were watched by the Newarkers established in the Queen’s Sconce, of which notable remains can still be seen. Colonel Theo. Gray at Coddington, and Colonel Henry Gray at Winthorpe, were, in their turn, watched by the garrison of the King’s Sconce, now unfortunately destroyed. It had been arranged that the Scots, when they arrived, should take up their position at Kelham, and by occupying the island from Kelham to Muskham Bridge they would complete the ring of besiegers. At the beginning of December the Scots arrived, and immediately a council of war was held by the English and Scottish generals. As a result Muskham Bridge was stormed and a sconce near it captured. It is difficult to point to the exact place where the Scots had their main camp, called Edinburgh. Undoubtedly it was a very large enclosure, and [189]one would expect it to have been defended by some kind of earthworks; yet a careful search of this part of the island has failed to reveal more than a few isolated banks and ditches, insufficient to give us any idea of the shape or extent of this camp.

Siege Plan of Newark.

Notwithstanding the arrival of the Scots, the circuit would not seem to have been complete, for the Newarkers still continued to carry provisions into the town, and not infrequently they would sally forth and fiercely attack one or other of the enemy. The following graphic account from the Cities Weekly Post, January 6–13, 1646, must serve to describe one of these frequent sallies:—

“Major Generall Poyntz continues his Quarters at Stoake; the Nottingham forces did keep their Guards in the Church, where unfortunately happened so great a fire, which took hold of the straw, that they could not quench it until it had devoured all that was combustible by the fire, and nothing on the next morning but the walls remaining, a sad spectacle to the beholders; whether this gave any encouragement to the Enemy in Newarke we cannot tell; but not long afterwards, the Nottingham forces being many of them gone to Nottingham upon some business (as wee heare) of publicke concernment, the Enemy sallyed forth from Newarke, being about 800 Horse and betwixt 200 or 300 Foot, and were making up to Major Gen. Poyntz his quarters at Stoak, which they did with so much fury and eager speed, that his Horse Guard began to flye, and were in that disorder, that two Horses fell down as they were passing through the turn Pike, by which means the more neare approaches of the Enemy and the Allarum they did give us could not so perfectly bee apprehended until they had entered into our Quarters, and Major Gen. Poyntz his own Chamber, which they made hast to plunder. In the meantime Major Gen. Poyntz using all dilligence to re-colect his men, did deport himselfe with so much resolution, that many of the Enemy were killed, nine prisoners taken, and about fifty wounded. In this service, it is said, we had not above three slaine, and seven hurt. The Enemy retyred in disorder to Newark, and the rather because they heard that Collonel Rossiter with a new body of 1000 Horse and foot was cumming down from Claypoole towards them, but perceiving that the Enemy had notice of their cumming, and were got into Newark, he onely gave an alarum to their Garrison, and returned safe to his own quarters.”

Even the turning of the river out of its course was not able to break down the defences of the gallant town, and so matters went on, until in May the end came suddenly and dramatically.

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Negotiations between Charles and the Scotch Commissioners appear to have been in progress for some time, the intermediary being Montreuil, a Frenchman in the King’s confidence. There is a certain amount of mystery attached to the whole affair, but at any rate Charles thought that he could not do better for his cause than join the Scotch army. How far the negotiations had gone, and how far the Scotch generals were privy to these negotiations, is not clear, but at any rate when the King suddenly appeared at Kelham on May 5, 1646, General Leslie professed complete astonishment and embarrassment. But it is instructive to inquire how Charles reached Kelham, for considerable uncertainty exists as to the course he took after entering Nottinghamshire at the south. We hear that the King reached Stamford in disguise, accompanied by Dr. Hudson and John Ashburnham, on May 3, and left again on the 4th, travelling all night. The only detail of his journey to Southwell, where he arrived early on the 5th, that we have been able to meet with, is that he crossed the Trent near Gotham. This statement is confusing rather than otherwise, for the Trent does not pass within two miles of this isolated village. The reason why it was necessary to cross the river to the west of Nottingham would be that the country between Nottingham and Newark was quite unsafe for Royalists, while there was quite a possibility of a safe circuit round Nottingham by the north, and so by forest roads to Southwell. But the exact spot where the Trent was crossed still remains to seek. Arrived at the King’s Arms (now the Saracen’s Head), Southwell, Montreuil’s headquarters, Charles rested for a short time, and after dinner marched on to Kelham. Though seemingly embarrassed by their royal prisoner, the Scots had no intention of letting him escape. He was closely guarded at Kelham Hall—so closely, indeed, that no one could correspond with him. No sooner was he at Kelham than Charles set about to arrange for the surrender of Newark. The Newarkers begged that they might hold out as long as they could, but Charles[191] insisted on their surrender, and Belasyse had to make the best terms he could. The terms were favourable, for the garrison marched out with all the honours of war. The arrangements for the surrender of the town were made “neere Maj. Gen. Poyntz headquarters.” The Perfect Occurrences of both Houses of Parliament, Week ending May 8th, gives the following list of treators:—

“Treators for the Parliament are Col. Alex. Popham, Col. Fras. Thornhaugh, Col. John Hutchinson, Col. Henry Gray, Col. Richard Thornton, Maj. Phil. Twisleton, and Maj. John Archer—English; Col. Walter Scott, Lieut.-Col. Gil. Carre, Maj. Archib. Douglas—Scots.

“Sir Thos. Ingram, Sir Bry. Balmes, Sir. Ger. Nevile, Mr. Robt. Sutton (not allowed to be a lord), Sir Simon Fanshaw, Maj.-Gen. Eyre, Col. Gilsby, Col. Darcy, Col. Atkins, Alderman Standish—for Newark.

“The clerks are Mr. Thos. Bristoe for us, and Mr. Coudy for them.”

On May 8 the Governor of Newark marched out, and on the same day the Scotch army and the King went northwards, spending the first night at Markham. With the surrender of Newark an order came from Parliament for the pulling down of all strong places in Nottinghamshire, including Southwell Palace and the Minster. The Palace was already in a ruinous condition, but Mr. Cludd managed to save the Minster, while Nottingham Castle was spared till 1651, on account of its steady adhesion to Parliament. But Newark Castle was “slighted,” and by the end of July was such a ruin as we see to-day.

Little more remains to be said with regard to the struggle in Notts. In July 1648 a rising of Notts and Lincolnshire Royalists was led by Sir Gilbert Byron. A skirmish was fought near Willoughby on the Wolds, and the Royalists were totally routed by Colonel Rossiter. Early in 1649 the King was brought to trial before a court of sixty-seven members. Five names connected with our county are prominent: Whalley, Ireton, Hutchinson, Millington, and Goffe; while to Colonel Francis Hacker was given the task of seeing that the sentence was carried out.

With the death of the King it is fitting that this short[192] sketch of the Civil War should cease. It has not been possible to go into any details, and in order to preserve the due proportion it has been necessary to omit much that might have proved interesting. England passed through a severe crisis in her history—a crisis which was almost sure to occur at one time or another—and though its course might have been less bloody had the ruler of England been a stronger man, yet it doubtless served a good purpose in providing a wide outlet for all the seething schisms engendered by Puritanism.

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## NOTTINGHAMSHIRE POETS
By John Russell, M.A.

The appreciation of poetry would appear to be as various and uncertain as its definition. For while, on the one hand, the cynic, confusing cause with effect, has defined it as a “disease of the intestines,” on the other, a great critic, himself an excellent poet, has written: “Poetry is nothing less than the most perfect speech of man, that in which he comes nearest to being able to utter the truth. It is no small thing, therefore, to succeed eminently in poetry”; and again, “The noble and profound application of ideas to life is the most essential part of poetic greatness”: so that when a poet has established his claim to real glory, “that real glory is good and wholesome for mankind at large, good and wholesome for the nation which produced the poet crowned with it.”

The county of Nottingham cannot claim the credit of having produced many such glorious poets. Only three of her poetic children stand out very conspicuously—Byron, Kirke White, and Philip James Bailey. But she can claim a fair number of minor poets, with whom this paper will more especially deal. It might, indeed, have been expected that the county and the county town would be prolific in poetic achievement. For they have had a remarkable history and have been the scene of many stirring incidents in the great drama of the nation’s life. Some, indeed, may say that the inhabitants have been men of action rather than of words.

As for the scenery of the county, though it may seem tame to the dwellers in the Lake District or the Peak, or[194] amid the combes and moors of the south-west, yet Sherwood Forest, Clifton Grove, and the long reaches of the Trent have a peculiar beauty of their own, and the homely charm of fields and hedgerows appeals strongly to Nottinghamshire men, so that amid grander scenes they can feel as Ulysses of old felt:—

“Non dubia est Ithaci sapientia, sed tamen optat
Fumum de patriis posse videre focis.”

This pleasure in their home has found plentiful and apt expression in the county poets. Kirke White sings:—

“In woods and glens I love to roam,
When the tired hedger hies him home;
Or by the woodland pool to rest,
When pale the star looks on its breast.”

He does but express in verse what any sensitive mind would feel in walking, while the early autumn twilight is fading into dark, say along the field path between Thoroton and Orston. The scope of this article forbids any detailed account of the lives of the several writers and their works, or lengthy criticism; it must be enough to relate a few facts about each, mention their chief writings, and occasionally, where it seems desirable, add a few lines of illustrative quotation.

Henry Constable.—The first to claim our attention is Henry Constable [1562–1613]. Anthony Wood says of him “that he was born (or at least descended from a family of the name of Constable) in Yorkshire.” It seems, however, to be accepted now that he was born at Newark, and was the son of Sir Robert Constable, Lieutenant of the Ordnance to Queen Elizabeth. He was educated at St. John’s College, Cambridge, a fact with which it is somewhat difficult to reconcile Wood’s statement “that he spent some time among the Oxonian muses.” He became a Roman Catholic at an early age, and his zeal for the cause of his religion brought him many difficulties and made him[195] an exile for many years of his life. He died at Liège. His poetical ability was fully recognised by his contemporaries. In a letter from abroad he is described as “One Constable, a fine poetical wit, who resides in Paris”; and in the same letter he is said “to have had in his head a plot to draw the Queen to be a Catholic.” Wood eulogizes him as “a great master of the English tongue,” and adds that “there was no gentleman of our nation had a more pure, quick, and higher delivery of conceit than he.” Sonnets of conceits, that is, quaint or humorous fancies elaborately wrought out till they were exhausted of suggestion, were a favourite form of composition at that time, and with Constable’s work may be compared Drayton’s Idea, Daniel’s Delia, and other similar collections. In 1584 appeared Diana, or the Excellent Conceitful Sonnets of H. C. Augmented with divers quatorzains of honourable and learned personages. Divided into VIII. Decades. And in 1592 was issued a small quarto volume entitled Diana, the Praises of his Mistress in certain Sweete Sonnets by H. C. In illustration of his style may be quoted:—

“My Lady’s presence makes the roses red,
Because to see her lips they blush for shame.
The Lily’s leaves, for envy, pale became;
And her white hands in them this envy bred.
The Marigold the leaves abroad doth spread;
Because the sun’s and her power is the same.
The Violet of purple colour came,
Dyed in the blood she made my heart to shed.
In brief, All flowers from her their virtue take;
From her sweet breath, their sweet smells do proceed;
The living heat which her eyebeams doth make
Warmeth the ground, and quickeneth the seed.
The rain, wherewith she watereth the flowers,
Falls from mine eyes, which she dissolves in showers.”

Michael Drayton’s Idea appears in 1619. Though he was a Warwickshire man, he perhaps deserves a passing mention here because of his praises of “the Crystal Trent, for fords and fish renowned,” and the “silver Trent near to[196] which Sirena dwelleth, she to whom Nature lent all that excelleth.”

“Tagus and Pactolus
Are to thee debtor,
Not for their gold to us
Are they the better;
Hence forth of all the rest,
Be thou the river,
Which as the daintiest
Puts them down ever.
For as my precious one
O’er thee doth travel,
She to pearl paragon
Turneth thy gravel.”

Gervase Markham [1568–1637], a member of a very distinguished Nottinghamshire family, was the son of Sir Robert Markham of Cotham. After serving as a soldier in the Low Countries and with the Earl of Essex in Ireland, he applied himself to writing, for which he was well qualified, being a scholar and knowing four or five languages. He had a practical knowledge of agriculture and horse-breeding, on which subjects he wrote several treatises. In association with William Sampson he published in 1622 a drama, The True Tragedy of Herod and Antipater, and in 1633 he produced another, The Dumbe Knight. His poem, The Most Honourable Tragedie of Sir Richard Grenvile, Knight, should be noticed because it probably gave suggestions to Tennyson in writing his ballad of The Revenge. In point of length there is a considerable difference between these works of the two poets. Markham also wrote some religious poems.

William Sampson, about whom very little is known, was probably born at South Leverton near Retford, at the end of the sixteenth century. On the title page of the play which was written by him in conjunction with Gervase Markham, he is described as a “Gentleman.” It is said that he was a retainer in the family of Sir Henry Willoughby of Risley. In support of this it may be mentioned that he dedicated one of his plays, The Vow Breaker, or the Faire[197] Maide of Clifton, to “The Worshipfull and most vertuous Gentlewoman Mistress Anne Willoughby Daughter of the Right Worshipfull and ever to be Honoured Henry Willoughby of Risley in the County of Derby, Baronet.”

In his volume of poems, many of which are of the nature of epitaphs or elegies, he gives some anagrams. Making of these was “then the fashionable amusement of the wittiest and most learned,” as Disraeli says. From “William Cavendish,” Sampson makes “All my will is Heaven”; from “John Curson” or “Cursone,” “So I ranne on,” and “Honour is sure,”

“Which Anagrammized thus, ’tis cleere and pure,
So hee ranne on. His honour now is sure.”

Among the subjects of his verse may be noted the Countess of Shrewsbury (“Bess of Hardwick”), “ould Sir John Byron of Newstead Abbey,” Sir George Perkins of Bunny, Henry Lord Stanhope, and “the right Honourable Henry Peirpoint,” father of the first Earl of Kingston.

Thomas Shipman [1632–1680] was the eldest son of William Shipman of Scarrington, by his second wife, Sara, daughter of Alderman Parker of Nottingham. Thoroton speaks of him as “a good Poet, and one of the Captains of the Trained Bands of this County.” His father was an enthusiastic Royalist. In spite of this partisanship, Thomas succeeded in “saving a small estate amid the calamities of the last rebellion,” which indicates shrewdness and capacity in business. His wife, daughter of John Trafford, brought him an estate at Bulcote. Their son William was high sheriff of Notts in 1730. Among his literary associates were Denham and Oldham.

He published a rhymed tragedy, Henry the Third of France, stabbed by a Fryer, with the Fall of Guise, and a volume of Loyal Poems called Carolina. He made grateful acknowledgments to his friend Abraham Cowley, and was a poetical friend of the third Lord Byron.

An address to the reader by Thomas Flatman, in 1682,[198] describes him as “a man every way accomplished: To the advantages of his birth, his education had added whatsoever was necessary to fit him for conversation, and render him (as he was) desirable by the best wits of the age.” Some of his writings were not free from the moral blemishes which disfigure much of the writing of that period.

John Oldham [1653–1683], though born in Gloucestershire, is often numbered among Nottinghamshire writers because of his connexion with the Earl of Kingston, who was his patron and gave him a home for a time at Holme Pierrepoint.

In the church of that village there is a tablet to the poet’s memory. That he was a man of distinction among his literary contemporaries is clear from the fact that both Waller and Dryden paid tribute to him at his death: and his work seems to have had considerable influence upon Pope and other eighteenth-century poets. He is called in the introduction to the Ode on St. Cecilia’s Day, “the late ingenious Mr. John Oldham,” and in a Dictionary published in 1694 in London he is described as “The darling of the Muses, a pithy, sententious, elegant, and smooth Writer.”

He wrote Satires and Pindaric Odes, and based his work largely on imitation of such classical authors as Horace and Juvenal.

His appreciation of the schoolmaster’s calling was not very high—

“A Dancing-Master shall be better paid,
Though he instructs the Heels, and you the Head.”

Oldham’s works do not allow much satisfactory quotation; but these lines may be given as a specimen of him:—

“’T has ever been the top of my Desires,
The utmost height of which my wish aspires,
That Heaven would bless me with a small estate,
Where I might find a close obscure retreat;
There, free from noise and all ambitious ends,
Enjoy a few choice books, and fewer friends;[199]
Lord of myself, accountable to none,
But to my conscience and my God alone:
There live unthought of, and unheard of die,
And grudge mankind my very memory.
But since the blessing is, I find, too great
For me to wish for, or expect of Fate:
Yet maugre all the spite of destiny,
My thoughts and actions are, and shall be free.”

From the Pindaric Ode to the memory of Mr. Charles Morwent may be cited:—

“Thy soul within such silent pomp did keep,
As if humanity were lulled asleep,
So gentle was thy pilgrimage beneath
Time’s unheard feet scarce make less noise,
Or the soft journey which a planet goes.
Life seemed all calm as its last breath;
A still tranquillity so husht thy breast,
As if some Halcyon were its guest,
And there had built her nest:
It hardly now enjoys a greater rest.”

The life of Robert Dodsley [1703–1764], publisher and poet, has in it a touch of romance in that, by ability, perseverance, and integrity, he raised himself from the comparatively servile position of a footman to be the friend and helper of many of the greatest men of his age, men distinguished by high birth and position or by genius, or by all three combined; and it will appear from what follows that he played no small or insignificant part in the literary life of the eighteenth century.

Dodsley was born on the 13th February 1703. The date of his birth is not recorded in the Mansfield register, but has just been discovered in an old memorandum book kept by the parish clerk, John Lodes. The omission of his birth entry from the registers suggests that his parents were perhaps Dissenters.

He is said to have been apprenticed at first to a stocking-weaver, but, disliking the trade or the conditions in which he had to work, he gave it up and became a footman. At this period of his life he published a volume of verse entitled[200] The Muse in Livery. He received encouragement and support from his employer and her friends. Ultimately, with the help of £100 from Pope, who befriended him also in other ways, he set up a bookseller’s shop in Pall Mall, and from the profits of this business and his writings he was able to retire towards the close of his life with a comfortable competence. He died at Durham and was buried there.

That Dodsley held a respectable position in the world of letters is evident from the fact that Pope patronised his play of The Toyshop, which was put on the stage in 1735; while of his tragedy of Cleon Johnson says, “if Otway had written this play, no other of his pieces would have been remembered,” praise which even Dodsley himself thought rather above the merit of his work.

As a bookseller and publisher he succeeded well. It was Dodsley who discerned the merit of Johnson’s London for which he paid the author ten guineas. Later on he paid fifteen guineas for The Vanity of Human Wishes, and he was one of the publishers who bought Rasselas. Johnson alludes to him affectionately as “Doddy my patron,” and says “Dodsley first mentioned to me the scheme of an English Dictionary.” To Dodsley’s enterprise the Annual Register, which is continued to this day, owed its origin. This is not the place to give a full list of his works, but mention must not be omitted of his two plays, The King and the Miller of Mansfield, and Sir John Cockle at Court, which show shrewd observation of men and affairs. Dodsley’s character seems to have been very agreeable and estimable. He is described by Boswell as “worthy, modest, and ingenious,” and we have it on the testimony of Johnson and Walpole that he had the manly merit of not being ashamed to recall “the limits of his narrower fate.” He honoured the memory of his friend Shenstone the poet by publishing an edition in two volumes of his works, both prose and verse.

Photo: Mr Emery Walker.

Robert Dodsley.

By kind permission of Yates Thompson, Esq.

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One or two quotations must serve to illustrate his manner of thought and diction. In the Miller of Mansfield he says: “Why we are all of us lost in the dark every day of our lives, knaves keep us in the dark by their cunning, and fools by their ignorance. Divines lose us in dark mysteries, lawyers in dark cases, and statesmen in dark intrigues. Nay, the light of reason, which we so much boast of, what is it but a dark lanthorn, which just serves to prevent us from running our nose against a post perhaps, but is no more able to lead us out of the dark mists of error and ignorance, in which we are lost, than an ignis fatuus would be to conduct us out of this wood.”

In the same play the countryman describes London:—

“O! ’tis a fine place! I have seen large houses with small hospitality, great men do little actions, and fine ladies do nothing at all. I have seen the honest lawyers of Westminster, and the virtuous inhabitants of Change Alley; the politic madmen of coffee-houses, and the wise statesmen of Bedlam. I have seen merry tragedies, and sad comedies; devotion at an opera, and mirth at a sermon; I have seen fine clothes at St. James’s, and long bills at Ludgate Hill. I have seen poor grandeur and rich poverty; high honours and low flattery; great pride and no merit. In short, I have seen a fool with a title, a knave with a pension, and an honest man with a thread-bare coat.”

He wrote several songs, one of the best known of which is “The Parting Kiss.”

Dodsley sat for his portrait to Sir Joshua Reynolds in 1760. From the interesting life of Dodsley, recently written by Mr. Ralph Straus, it is abundantly clear that the bookseller was a remarkable and very worthy man, and that English literature is greatly indebted to him in many ways. It is indeed a cause for surprise that his life has not been more fully written before. He not only had a keen discernment of the literary merit of work submitted to his judgment, but he had an equally keen discernment of what the public taste required at the moment. He therefore very seldom failed in his publishing ventures. He had also a high conception of the dignity of literature, and of[202] his responsibility as author and publisher. His conduct in respect of his partnership in the London Chronicle is deserving of the highest praise, and his letter announcing his intention of relinquishing his share in that periodical is worthy, for its manly sincerity and straightforwardness, to be compared with the famous letter of Dr. Johnson to Lord Chesterfield. Says Dodsley: “However, as I am but a single person, I desire you will take the sense of the Partners on all I have said, only assuring you that if the Paper cannot be carried on without giving any of these cause of offence, I shall desire to dispose of my share, being determined not to sacrifice my character to other people’s indiscretions, nor to any lucrative consideration whatsoever.” From the few private letters given in Mr. Straus’s book, we get a pleasing glimpse of his good nature and humour in the relations of ordinary family life, and can quite easily understand that he was popular and much esteemed by his friends. Shenstone said of him, “Of his simplicity, benevolence, humanity, and true politeness, I have had repeated and particular experience.” Though Dodsley had not the advantage of a good early education, yet, in the words of Mr. Straus, “a long life spent in the society of literary and artistic people, and much reading, had educated him more surely than a five years’ course at one of the universities might have done. The education that comes to the man in love with life is of far more importance than the forced, if polite, education that is given to the boy.” With the exception of his early want of opportunity, his life was singularly full and complete.

Erasmus Darwin [1731–1802], the bearer of a name which his illustrious grandson has made for ever famous in the history of scientific speculation, was himself a man of distinction, “the worthy grandfather of a far more eminent contributor to human knowledge.” He was born at Elston, near Newark, educated at Chesterfield and St. John’s College, Cambridge, and finished his medical education at Edinburgh. He practised in Lichfield and at Derby.[203] His book, The Botanic Garden, appeared in 1781, and consists of two parts, the “Economy of Vegetation,” and “Loves of the Plants.” His work is full of classical allusions, and he may be looked upon as one of the last exponents of the classical tradition in English verse. As Ovid, in his Metamorphoses, had set forth the change of human beings into plants and animals, Darwin, reversing the process, undertook to “restore some of them to their original animality, after having remained prisoners so long in their vegetable mansions.” In other words, he personified and allegorised the forms and natural properties of plants. The effects, for instance, of a decoction of laurel or Laura, are represented in a figure of Nightmare.

One quotation from his lengthy poems must suffice:—

“Press’d by the ponderous air the Piston falls
Resistless, sliding through its iron walls;
Quick moves the balanced beam, of giant birth,
Wields his large limbs, and nodding shakes the earth ...
Soon shall thy arm, Unconquered Steam! afar
Drag the slow barge, or drive the rapid car;
Or on wide-waving wings expanded bear
The flying chariot through the fields of air.
Fair crews triumphant, leaning from above,
Shall wave their fluttering kerchiefs as they move,
Or warrior bands alarm the gaping crowd,
And armies shrink beneath the shadowy cloud.”

Mention should also be made of his Song to May.

The close of the eighteenth century brings us to the age of Byron and Kirke White, who were born within a year or two of each other.

George Gordon Noel, Lord Byron [1788–1824] is a man whose life and writings are so well known to educated Englishmen, and have been the theme of so much criticism and controversy, that it seems superfluous to set down many details in this short notice. He was born in London, educated at Aberdeen Grammar School, at Harrow, and at Trinity College, Cambridge. He lived some time at the family home of Newstead, and after a life of[204] much dissipation, disappointment, and varied travel, he died at Missolonghi, in Greece, while rendering chivalrous help to the Greeks in their struggle to recover what they had lost—the freedom which their forefathers had been able to preserve against seemingly overwhelming odds so many centuries before. It was fitting that his life should end in a country and amid a people for whose scenery and history he had so great an affection.

It cannot be said that he has been enthusiastically honoured in his own county. At Nottingham there is now a fine bronze bust of him at the entrance to the Castle Art Museum; but otherwise there is no conspicuous memorial, such as a statue or public building, to perpetuate openly his fame. Yet by the quality and boldness of his thought and the splendour of his diction he stands in the front rank of our national poets; and his genius is recognised and acclaimed far beyond the limits of his own island and Europe.

For this neglect he has perhaps mainly himself to blame. The irregularities of his life, and his disregard of conventional morality, so offended soberer minds and puritan instincts that the imperfections of his character have been allowed by many to overshadow the greatness of his poetic achievement. This is a pity. Where shall we find a finer poem than Childe Harold, impressive alike by the truth and beauty of its descriptions and the pathos of its reflexions?

Byron’s excesses and eccentricities were a not unnatural consequence from his ancestry and bringing up. His was a nature that needed from the very first wise guidance and discipline if it was to be nurtured to self-control and regulated usefulness. Such discipline he seems not to have had. Of his ancestry and inherited characteristics it is well said in English Men of Letters: “Burns had only the fire of his race: the same is true of Byron, whose genius, in some respects less genuine, was indefinitely and inevitably wider. His intensely susceptible nature took a[205] dye from every scene, city, and society through which he passed; but to the last he bore with him the marks of a descendant of the sea-kings, and of the mad Gordons in whose domains he had first learned to listen to the sound of the two ‘mighty voices’ that haunted and inspired him through life.” He loved “the mountain’s shaggy side and sought the rocks where billows roll.” This love is connected with his passion for liberty. It will be remembered that he pleaded the cause in Parliament of the Luddite frame-breakers. It is dangerous to argue, in the case of a great poet or novelist, from their works to their personality. By their imagination they can realise adequately situations and characters of which they may have had no personal experience. Like the skilled anatomist they can construct the whole from a small part. Still it is possible that the gloom and self-abandonment and vivid pictures of remorse which we find in parts of Byron, may have been partly due to a remorseful feeling he was too proud to own except indirectly. Scott says:—

“High minds of native pride and force
Most deeply feel thy pangs, Remorse.
Fear for their scourge mean villains have:
Thou art the torturer of the brave.”

Byron also says:—

“Full many a stoic eye and aspect stern
Mask hearts where grief hath little left to learn;
And many a withering thought lies hid, not lost,
In smiles that least befit who wear them most.”

“None are all evil,” and whatever Byron’s faults may have been and their cause, the fact remains that he has enriched his country’s literature with noble poetry, and invested the ancestral home of Newstead with undying fame. He was not afraid that he would be forgotten:—

“But I have lived, and have not lived in vain:
My mind may lose its force, my blood its fire,
And my frame perish even in conquering pain;
But there is that within me which shall tire
Torture and time, and breathe when I expire.”

[206]

Pollok’s estimate of his powers, given in The Course of Time, not inadequately sums up his wayward genius:—

“All passions of all men,
The wild and tame, the gentle and severe;
All thoughts, all maxims, sacred and profane;
All creeds, all seasons, Time, Eternity;
All that was hated, and all that was dear;
All that was hoped, all that was feared by man,
He tossed about, as tempest-withered leaves,
Then smiling, looked upon the wreck he made.
With terror now he froze the cowering blood,
And now dissolved the heart in tenderness:
Yet would not tremble, would not weep himself;
But back into his soul retired, alone,
Dark, sullen, proud, gazing contemptuously
On hearts and passions prostrate at his feet.”

In a paper written for a book on Nottinghamshire, it is not inappropriate to add that plates to illustrate Murray’s edition of Childe Harold were taken from sketches supplied by Sir Charles Fellows, the Lycian traveller, and a member of a well-known Nottingham family.

After Byron we may take Henry Kirke (or Kirk) White [1785–1806], the son of a butcher, afterwards articled to a firm of solicitors, and for the last year of his short life a student at St. John’s College, Cambridge. He fell a victim to consumption, aggravated, it is thought, if not actually brought on, by premature and excessive devotion to his studies. Hence Byron’s beautiful and pathetic lines on him:—

“Unhappy White! while life was in its spring,
And thy young muse just waved her joyous wing,
The spoiler came; and all thy promise fair
Has sought the grave, to sleep for ever there.”

In one of his letters White says of himself: “My mind is of a very peculiar cast. I began to think too early; and the indulgence of certain trains of thought, and too free an exercise of the imagination, have superinduced a morbid kind of sensibility; which is to the mind what excessive[207] irritability is to the body.” Gray’s lines are particularly applicable to White:—

“Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melancholy marked him for her own.”

Matthew Arnold remarks that “much good poetry is profoundly melancholy,” that condition of mind being natural to a sensitive and poetic temperament in contact with the difficulties and disappointments of life. “The eternal note of sadness” strikes too keenly on such a mind in view of the “turbid ebb and flow of human misery.”

But White’s melancholy is often due mainly to the depression of illness. This makes all the more admirable the spirit of resignation with which he faced his end:—

“God of the Just, Thou gavest the bitter cup;
I bow to Thy behest, and drink it up.”

Speculations upon the “might have been” of a writer dying long before his prime are a somewhat useless exercise of the imagination, and it is impossible to say what White would have produced had his mind been filled, expanded, and matured by more reading, by travel and experience.

Keats, with whom White was “equalled in fate,” if not in renown, has left us an example of what genius can accomplish in even a short span of years; but his life was prolonged some four years longer than White’s, a not inconsiderable period in the years of growth, and he was happier in his early opportunities. White was barely past the time of imitative work, and shows many traces of the influence of Milton and Gray. He has, however, left enough to show that he was not a mere writer of pretty verse, but was capable of conceiving and sustaining a higher flight. His Clifton Grove, and Christiad fragment will illustrate this statement. And he will always have a charm for Nottingham readers, because his inspiration, when not religious, was mainly derived from the sights and sounds and association of his own country side; he was a home-bred poet.

[208]

A poem “To an early primrose,” written, he says, at the age of thirteen, seems a natural outcome of his feelings and circumstances. The flower—

“Mild offspring of a dark and sullen sire!
Whose modest form, so delicately fine,
Was nurs’d in whirling storms,
And cradled in the winds,”

is taken as symbolical of virtue hardened by “chill adversity.”

When his age and circumstances are duly considered, the extent and maturity of his production fully entitle White to be called a genius. His letters are well worth reading for their sound sense, and for the light they throw on his thoughtful regard for the best interests of his family.

The first half of the nineteenth century was remarkable for its output of local writings. In Wylie’s Old and New Nottingham, to which this paper is much indebted for information and suggestions, it is said: “Fifteen years ago, i.e. in 1838, Nottingham was the residence of a more brilliant literary circle than was probably ever drawn together in a town of the like extent.” Perhaps Norwich may be fitly compared with it in this respect, and it is singular that the migration thence of several families established what was in literary matters perhaps partially causal, a connexion between the two cities.

This literary activity need cause no great surprise. Men were living “mid the stir of the forces whence issued” the modern world. The French Revolution, the rise and fall of Napoleon, the struggle for religious and political emancipation, scientific discoveries and inventions, the diffusion of cheap literature, were all having their effect upon the more thoughtful minds of the time. And there was less distraction of amusement and multitudinous publication. Men had to be content with fewer books; they made them, however, their own by study and quiet reflexion; life was less diffuse and “scrappy.” It is evident from the history of many of the writers that the literary life of Nottingham was[209] much helped and stimulated by such papers as Dearden’s Miscellany, Sutton’s Review, and the Nottingham Journal, to the pages of which many fugitive pieces were contributed, as well as others which have survived in book form. Not much of the verse is of the type usually known as religious, though some of the writers handle religious topics. The ordinary religious poem is not difficult to write, dealing as it does with a stock-in-trade of emotions common to the race handed down through the ages, and to a large extent realized in each man’s personal experience, having besides a form of expression of the finest kind familiar to every Englishman from childhood. But to adapt by strenuous thought and long reflexion the old faith to new conditions, to state its eternal verities in terms of fresh science and advancing ideas is another and a more difficult matter; and such adaptation is what several of our local writers have attempted after the manner of Clough and Matthew Arnold.

A remarkable thing about many of the writers is the largeness of their conceptions, the ambitious scale on which they essayed to write. Another noteworthy fact is that many of them were of humble origin, and did their literary work in circumstances which might well have smothered their nascent aspirations. Millhouse, Ragg, and Miller are all examples of this pursuit of knowledge under difficulties. They “broke their birth’s invidious bar,” and of them may be truly said what Millhouse said of Richard Booker—

“In yonder humble grave there lies a Man.”

Chief of these nineteenth-century poets is Bailey, the son of Thomas Bailey [1785–1856], who was himself an industrious writer and journalist. Besides poems Thomas Bailey wrote the Annals of Nottinghamshire. Among his poems are Ireton, dedicated to Lord John Russell; the Carnival of Death; What is Life? In business he was first in the stocking-trade, and afterwards a wine merchant.

[210]

Philip James Bailey [1816–1902], the author of Festus, was fortunate in having a father whose literary interests enabled and induced him to sympathize with the poetic aspirations of his son, and the poem is very appropriately dedicated by the son to the father:—

“My Father! unto thee to whom I owe
All that I am, all that I have and can;
Who madest me in thyself the sum of man
In all his generous aims and powers to know,
These first fruits bring I.”

Bailey studied for the bar, and was called, but did not practise. His education at the University of Glasgow was perhaps a better training for his future career than residence at the old English universities might have been; it was wider and less purely classical. He is remarkable for having deliberately resolved to be a poet, for having prepared himself most scrupulously to rise to “the height of his great argument,” and for having refused to court popularity by following a lower aim in his verse. Such a work as Festus can not be popular; it is too long and difficult for that. It does not lend itself readily to quotation, but must be read and studied as a whole. The lines most commonly cited from it are these:—

“Life’s more than breath and the quick round of blood:
It is a great spirit and a busy heart,
The coward and small in soul scarce live.
One generous feeling; one great thought; one deed
Of good, ere night, would make life longer seem
Than if each year might number a thousand days,
Spent as is this by nations of mankind.
We live in deeds, not years; in thoughts, not breaths;
In feelings, not in figures on a dial.
We should count time by heart-throbs. He most lives
Who thinks most; feels the noblest; acts the best.
And he whose heart beats quickest lives the longest,
Lives in one hour more than in years do some
Whose fat blood sleeps as it slips along their veins.
Life is but a means unto an end; that end,
Beginning, mean and end to all things—God.”

Philip James Bailey. “Festus.”

By kind permission of Miss Carey.

[211]

We may note also for its quiet humour—

“He sleeps! The fate of many a gracious moral
This to be stranded on a drowsy ear;”

and this, as indicating Bailey’s aim as a writer—

“Write to the mind and heart, and let the ear
Glean after what it can. The voice of great
Or graceful thoughts is sweeter far than all
Word-music; and great thoughts, like great deeds, need
No trumpet. Never be in haste in writing.
Let that thou utterest be of nature’s flow,
Not Art’s; a fountain’s, not a pump’s.”

Bailey’s work has hitherto been more appreciated in America than in England. On the death of Tennyson, in 1892, it was suggested that he should be made Poet Laureate; and he was one of the distinguished men on whom the University of Glasgow conferred an honorary degree at its Jubilee Celebration in 1901.

In 1901 Mr. James Ward, of Nottingham, published a pamphlet entitled Recollections of Philip James Bailey, in which was published for the first time a poem called “Liberty, a Poetical Protocol,” which begins:—

“Time was when Liberty came down
From the high seat
Where, by God’s feet,
With Law, she claims one same and sacred crown;
And to the dominant nations of the earth,
Massed in the West,
Where most her votaries dwell, who own her worth,
And love her best
These words addressed:—”

Of criticism Festus has had plenty. Tennyson said, “I can scarcely trust myself to say how much I admire it, for fear of falling into extravagance.” Gilfillan says “Shelley’s Prometheus is the argument of Faust extended from man the individual to man the species; while Festus is the argument of Job applied in the like manner to the whole human family; Festus is to the one as Job to the other, a type of the fall and recovery of all men. The scene of Faust and[212] Prometheus is on earth; that of Job and of Festus is (essentially) in eternity.”

Luke Booker [1762–1835] and Thomas Ragg [1808–1881] may be mentioned together with Spencer T. Hall as friends and helpers of the weaver poet, Robert Millhouse [1788–1839], whom they assisted by writing on his behalf and in other ways.

Booker was vicar of Dudley, and besides his poems (“Sacred, Moral, and Entertaining”), wrote a didactic poem called The Hop Garden, and a Descriptive and Historical Account of Dudley Castle; this was published in 1825, and is described as “a good piece of work.”

Ragg, after being in his father’s printing office and then apprentice to a hosier, became a bookseller’s assistant, and finally, having attracted by his Christian apologetics the attention of some Church dignitaries, took orders. He died vicar of Lawley, in Shropshire. Among those interested in him were James Montgomery, Isaac Taylor, and Robert Southey. His poem, The Deity, in twelve books, appeared in 1834, and was called in the Times “a very remarkable production.” In 1855 he produced Creation’s Testimony to its God, the Accordance of Science, Philosophy and Revelation. Ragg has been termed “the adopted poet of the Evangelic Muse.”

Spencer Timothy Hall [1812–1885], “the Sherwood Forester,” had a remarkable history, and was—

“A man so various that he seemed to be
Not one, but all the world’s epitome.”

He said of himself that he “could dig, plough, reap, stack, thresh, and winnow, make a stocking and a shoe, write a book and print and bind it, or give a lecture, or take stock of a man’s body and mind and furnish him with an inventory of the same!” He gave exhibitions of mesmerism, helped to edit a newspaper, was once a postmaster, was secretary to the Society for Abolishing Capital Punishment, and a poet to crown it all!

[213]

In his steady determined struggle upwards from obscurity and uncongenial occupations to literary recognition and success he resembled his great exemplar Benjamin Franklin, and his versatility recalls his fellow-townsman Samuel Parrott the painter, whose boast it was that he could do three things well—build a tall factory chimney, play the violin, and paint an Academy picture. Among Hall’s writings were, The Forester’s Offering, The Upland Hamlet, and other Poems, and The Peak and the Plain. He was born at Sutton-in-Ashfield, and died at Blackpool. His epitaph on Robert Millhouse will bear quoting again:—

“When Trent shall flow no more, and Blossoms fail
On Sherwood’s plains to scent the spring tide gale,
When the Lark’s lay shall lack its thrilling charm,
And song forget the Patriot’s soul to warm—
When Love o’er youthful hearts hath lost all sway;
His fame may pass, but not till then away:
For Nature taught, and Freedom fired his Rhyme,
And Virtue dedicated it to Time.”

William Howitt [1792–1879], Mary Howitt [1799–1888], and Richard Howitt [1799–1869] were a remarkable trio, who among them produced a considerable amount of work of various kinds.

It seems unnecessary to say much in detail of William and Mary Howitt. What child is not familiar with The Spider and the Fly and The Ant and the Cricket? They published together in 1821 the Forest Minstrel, and in their literary activity they were as indefatigable as Southey. Among William’s works were Homes and Haunts of British Poets, the Ruined Abbeys and Castles of Great Britain, a Popular History of England, and a History of Priestcraft, the last of which dragged the writer into politics as an advocate of popular liberty, and caused him to be made an alderman of Nottingham. Mary Howitt dedicated her Ballads and other Poems, published in 1847, to “My best counsellor and teacher, my literary associate for a quarter of a century, my husband and my friend.”[214] In the light of this dedication the bronze plaque at the Nottingham Castle Museum is invested with peculiar interest. On it husband and wife are represented as poring together over the pages of an open book, and there is a moving pathetic tenderness in the artist’s work. Mary Howitt’s reception at the close of her life into the Church of Rome suggests that she had been “voyaging through strange seas of thought alone.”

Richard Howitt published in 1840 The Gipsy King and other Poems, and in 1868 Wasp’s Honey: or Poetic Gold and Gems of Poetic Thought. These contain much beautiful verse. The Athenæum said of him, “He is healthfully English in his composition,” while Tennyson said, “Nature has been bountiful to you.” He won also the appreciation of Wordsworth, Leigh Hunt, and Christopher North. A characteristic poem showing his delight in simple nature is On a Daisy, first seen by him in Australia. He died at Edingley, near Southwell. Interesting illustrative quotations from the works of the Howitts, Robert Millhouse, and other writers may be found in Wylie’s book already mentioned. Millhouse has been called “the Burns of Nottinghamshire,” and his sonnets have a simplicity and directness that indicate strength.

Edward Hawksley published in 1829 some poems entitled Colonel Hutchinson and other Poems. In a poem on the Trent he makes special mention of Thomas Bailey—

“Last, Bailey tuned his sedgy reed,
And gave thee, rolling Trent, thy meed.”

In 1825 Mary Ann Cursham produced a long poem on Martin Luther, in three parts, containing altogether well over two thousand lines; and from Southwell, in 1844, came The Eastern Princess and a drama entitled Walberg, or Temptation, by Sophia Mary Smith. The publisher was W. Bunny. Henry Hogg’s verses, published in 1852, have a pleasant smoothness and melody due to a close imitation of his poetic master, Tennyson, who at that[215] time was evidently influencing considerably the local writers. In Tennyson’s Memoir it is recorded: “Towards the end of the year (1855) an unknown Nottingham artisan came to call. My father asked him to dinner, and at his request read Maud.” This artisan, it appears, had sent Tennyson his poems beforehand to read.

In illustration of Hogg’s style may be quoted these lines:—

“Till Knowledge from the statelier ranks
Shall come down unto earth, and lend
The faith to look beyond those banks
That skirt the life which has no end.
Whence some who look see nought but night,
And some feel nought but idle fears;
And grope in darkness for the light,
And waste a useless life in tears.
And some see lights that burn afar,
And hear a still voice wisely teach;
And live, and grasp their better star,
And rise on stronger wings, and reach
Unto the foremost fruits of time
Where Wisdom walketh, gathering Grace,
And swelling heaven-ward.”

Edwin Atherstone [1788–1872] was a voluminous writer. Among his works were the Fall of Nineveh in thirty books; Israel in Egypt, containing nearly twenty thousand lines; and the Last Days of Herculaneum. He was a friend of John Martin the painter. He died at Bath, being at the time of his death in receipt of a pension of £100 a year.

In 1859 Joseph Truman published a volume of verse “inscribed to the author of Festus by his friend J. T.” The poems are pleasant reading and the work of a thoughtful man.

In some lines on Fox How we have:—

“Reverential earnest Arnold,
Warmly human, wisely good;
O! for more of Arnold-spirit,
In our age’s feverish blood![216]
More of conscience in the Nation,
More of Manhood in the Man,
Statutes in a fairer fashion,
Churches on a broader plan!”

And these lines give the spirit of the writer’s creed:—

“Sooner or later all souls shall be saved,
Else God’s love is defeated, or not rich
Like God’s, and still the pleading Christ must stand
In human earnest raising unto Him
Pathetic eyes dim with eternal tears.
For life is like a circle drawn by God,
And closes in the place it came from—heaven.”

Did space allow, many beautiful thoughts might be set down here from the poems of H. Septimus Sutton [1825–1901], who has left behind him a volume of verse distinguished by delicate sentiment and much beauty of diction. He was educated at first for the medical profession, but finding some of the work incidental to it distasteful, he became a journalist and devoted himself to the cause of temperance, being editor of the Alliance News for more than forty years. He was intimate with most of the writers of the “Sherwood Forest School,” and has left slight sketches of some of those writers in his Clifton Grove Garland.

The “modest” White—

“A youth, slow pacing, unawares impelled
By blind thought,”

who

“Lifted from the grass his meditative eyes”;

Philip James Bailey, who

“Came down the grove, dark-haired, deep-eyed,
And groundward looking; but I will be bound,
Not seeing aught he looked at on the ground”;

Miller, “the basket-maker”; Hall “with many a merry smile.”

Sutton’s poems won the appreciation of such judges as Francis William Newman, Frances Power Cobbe, Christina Rossetti, and George Macdonald.

[217]

One of his most exquisite productions is Rose’s Diary. What can be more beautiful than these lines?—

### “SORROW

“The flowers live by the tears that fall
From the sad face of the skies,
And life would have no joys at all
Were there no watery eyes.
Love thou thy sorrow; grief shall bring
Its own excuse in after years;
The rainbow!—see how fair a thing
God hath built up from tears.”

And to the question, “Is life worth living?” hear Sutton’s answer:—

“How beautiful it is to be alive!
To wake each morn as if the Maker’s grace
Did us afresh from nothingness derive
That we might sing ‘How happy is our case!
How beautiful it is to be alive!’
To read in God’s great book, until we feel
Love for the love that gave it: then to kneel
Close unto Him Whose truth our souls will shrive,
While every moment’s joy doth more reveal
How beautiful it is to be alive.
Rather to go without what might increase
Our worldly standing, than our souls deprive
Of frequent speech with God, or than to cease
To feel, through having wasted health or peace,
How beautiful it is to be alive.
Not to forget, when pain and grief draw nigh,
Into the ocean of time past to dive
For memories of God’s mercies, or to try
To bear all sweetly, hoping still to cry
‘How beautiful it is to be alive!’
Thus ever towards man’s height of nobleness
Strive still some new progression to contrive;
Till, just as any other friend’s, we press
Death’s hand; and, having died, feel none the less
How beautiful it is to be alive.”

[218]

William Frank Smith [1836–1876]. In 1864 a small volume was published by Smith, Elder & Co., Poems by William Frank Smith. It is dated from The Park, Nottingham, July 1864, and is dedicated to “W. W. Gull, Esq., M.D.,” the author being led to dedicate it thus “by a sense of gratitude for this, that among the hours of your laborious life you found time to encourage and appreciate my efforts when encouragement was indeed of great price to me.”

Smith was educated at Bromsgrove School. He became a doctor, and held the post of physician to the Sheffield Infirmary. His health broke down, and he died at the early age of forty.

The poems are sixteen in all, the most important being a trilogy—Saint Bruno the Believer, Spinoza the Thinker, and Meister Cornelius the Worker. They are evidently the production of a cultivated man with refined tastes and feelings, sensitive to the charms and varying moods of nature, and brooding, perhaps unhealthily, over the unsolved “riddle of this painful earth.”

There is in them much vividness of conception and beauty of description. The writer seems to have drawn his inspiration largely from the Ancient Classics and the Bible, from Tennyson, and mediæval speculations and pageantry.

A second edition of the poems appeared in 1879, with a memoir of the author by Dr. Pye Smith, and additional poems, including some translations from the Classics. To illustrate the style and spirit of the work, we quote from Saint Bruno:—

“But soon the music filled my thirsting ears
With richer harmonies,
The movement swifter grew, and then I saw
A curtain rise.
With sound of tinkling anklet bells there came
A train of laughing girls,
Dark-eyed, their braided raven tresses twined
With wreaths of pearls;
The silken rustling folds of Eastern robes
Half hid the glancing white[219]
Of limbs divinely moulded; noiselessly
As flakes of light
From boughs in sunlight waved, their arching feet
Beat on the velvet ground
In time to that enchanted melody
That breathed around.
And sweetly chimed the silver anklet bells
While hand in hand they came,
Now bending towards me, now retiring poised
Like waving flame;
But still their dark enticing eyes were fixed
On mine unceasingly,
I might not turn away, I could not shun
Their witchery.”

As his death draws near, Spinoza soliloquises:—

“The polyp dies, his coral house remains,
The fragile ocean creatures melt away,
Their hollow spiral shells remain, perchance
For cycles hidden down beneath the earth.
I also pass away, and men no more
Shall hear my voice, but still my work remains.
In ages yet to come, high souls shall dwell
Within my palace, echoing my name
With reverence,
As one that draweth near
A fall of mighty waters in a pass,
What time the vale becomes a sunless chasm,
The overhanging rocks around him close,
He hears the awful thunder-voice more loud
Each step; even so, while now I draw more near
The awful presence, all my human life
Grows dark and narrow, all my soul is weak
With solemn awe,—with awe, but not with fear.”

The end of Meister Cornelius is impressively told. Perhaps these lines from a sonnet on the death of T. W. Buckle indicate Smith’s outlook upon life:—

“The strong right hand hath fallen from the standard,
To him, a man, was given to see the long
And dark world drama with unclouded eyes
Even as a God. Through centuries of wrong,
And sounding wars, and splendid tyrannies,
He saw the growth of thought august and strong,
The slow advance to mightier destinies.”

[220]

Of Thomas Miller a good notice appeared in the literary supplement of the Nottingham Daily Guardian of the date December 18, 1906. Only passing mention can be made of John Hicklin, editor and part proprietor of the Nottingham Journal; of Ann Taylor, afterwards Mrs. Gilbert, of Ongar [1782–1866], a well-known writer of hymns and poems for children; of Samuel Collinson, whose Autumn Leaves, a small volume published in 1867, deserves mention if only for its graceful lines of dedication; of F. R. Goodyer, who wrote to the local journals many amusing parodies and comic verses on passing events, and was besides associated with William Bradbury in the production of a burlesque acted at Nottingham, Ye Faire Maide of Clifton.

Among translators are Gilbert Wakefield the Scholar [1756–1801], who made translations from Juvenal, Horace, and Virgil, and wrote metrical versions of one or two of the Psalms: and Ichabod Charles Wright [1795–1871], the translator of Homer and Dante. Wakefield’s translations are not very remarkable, and in his Horace renderings he does not attempt to reproduce the original metres. His Tenth Satire of Juvenal ends thus:—

“One blessing on ourselves we may bestow:
’Tis peace: and Virtue is our peace below:
No power hast thou where Wisdom’s altars rise;
We, Fortune! build thee shrines, we station in the skies.”

It seems strange that for one of the exercises of his muse he should have chosen a Psalm the last verse of which in his translation is:—

“Thrice blest the man, whose ruthless ears
Heed not the struggling mother’s moans:
Who from the breast her infant tears,
And dashes on the bleeding stones.”

George Hickling, of Cotgrave [1827–1909], is better known perhaps to Nottinghamshire readers by his pen-name of “Rusticus.” Of lowly origin and circumstances and practically self-educated, he attained a respectable[221] position in the local world of letters, and, if he did not achieve greatness, he produced work which showed that he had a sensitive and observant mind, and that he had by perseverance won a most creditable victory over limited opportunities. Much of his verse was contributed to the Nottingham newspapers, to which, towards the close of his life, he sent also communications in prose on agricultural and meteorological matters. Two collected volumes of his verse were published: The Pleasures of Life, and other Poems, which appeared in 1861. It was dedicated to the Duke of Newcastle, and has some introductory lines signed H. B., M.A., and dated Nottingham Park, September 22, 1859. The other, Echoes from Nature; or the Song of the Woodland Muse, a Poem for the People, is dated 1863, and dedicated to Frederick Webster, Esq. They consist largely of descriptive and reflective pieces, suggested by the village and its neighbourhood in which his life was spent. They contain also patriotic verse called forth by the current events of his time. There are in some of these poems, naturally, unconscious echoes of more illustrious writers, such as Goldsmith. This does not mean a charge of plagiarism; far from it: the thoughts of “Rusticus” were his own, and he clearly endeavoured to express them in his own simple words. But he would be as profoundly influenced by the books he read in his early days as boys are by the personal teaching of a vigorous and stimulating master. Characteristic quotation from him is not easy. Perhaps the following lines will give a fair idea of his style and thought. But his poems should be read whole and one with another.

### “WHAT IS LOVE?

“Ah, What is love? No mortal tongue can tell:
It is the power that saves the earth from hell!
It is the spring of many a noble deed,
It shines refulgent in the Christian’s creed;
It smiles in every bursting bud and flower,
It has a voice in every passing hour;[222]
It compasses the whole creation round,
And by its tendrils hearts to hearts are bound.
’Tis the pulsation of the universe,
It counteracts the evils of the curse;
The golden cord that pendent hangs from heaven;
The mystic ladder-way to mortals given;
It is the breath of blessed spirit throngs
When round the earth they breathe eternal songs.”

The Nottingham Athenæum said of him that “he was the truest poet in our locality, and his present volume bears us out in our assertion”; and the London Athenæum: “Some of Mr. Hickling’s poems are excellent, and show great poetic power”; while the Telegraph describes the verse as a pearl “as pure and priceless as any of the glittering gems that Nottingham genius has hitherto offered.”

In 1859 James Blackwood, of Paternoster Row, published a small volume of poems entitled, The Flirting Page, a Legend of Normandy, and other Poems, by Charles Dranfield and George Denham Halifax. “Charles Dranfield” was the pen-name of Richard Foster Sketchley, who was born at Newark on 23rd July 1826. He was of far-reaching Newark ancestry, and was educated at the Magnus Grammar School, from which he proceeded to Exeter College, Oxford. In 1864 he was appointed Assistant-Keeper of the Science and Art Department of the Victoria and Albert Museum at South Kensington, and held that post for thirty years. He was on the staff of Punch for many years. A memorial notice of him was contributed to the Magnus Magazine by Mr. T. M. Blagg, another old Magnus boy. It is clear from the testimony of his friends that Sketchley was a man of great charm of manner and singular modesty; his serious poems show that he had a cultured mind, refined and sensitive; that he had no common gift for humorous writing is evident from his connexion with such a paper as Punch, He died at Seaford in Sussex, and was buried there.

His chief poem in the volume mentioned above is The Flirting Page, in the style of the Ingoldsby Legends. It[223] is amusing and well written, with a great command of rhyme, and shows that the writer had an extensive acquaintance with men and things. The more serious poems deal with incidents in the Crimean War, or with feelings aroused by memories of the far-off days of happy youth. Quotation is not easy; the poems should be read as wholes. These lines, from the Introduction to The Flirting Page, will illustrate the author’s gift of rhyme:—

“Leave business, and bullion, and British Bank bubbles
For woods and plantations, for fallows and stubbles:
Leave barracks and chambers, the clubs, and ‘the House’
For the mountains and moor, for the deer and the grouse,
For jungles and prairies, and lonely savannahs,
With rifles and pale ale, and lots of ‘Havanahs’;
Leave the porter of Barclay, the water of Thames,
For vin ordinaire and the waters of Ems:
Leave station and bridges, by railway and steamer,
For Keswick or Conway, for Antwerp or Lima;
For the Rhine or the Rhone,
Or the winding Saone:
For the valley of Chamouni, bent on pic-nicing
On the top of Mont Blanc with champagne and chicken;
For Rome to buy bronzes and gaze at the Pope;
For Naples whose king’s not so good as its soap;
For the Dove or the Danube, for Malvern or Mecca;
For the banks of the Wye, or the banks of the Neckar.”

And as specimen of the shorter poems, we may take to illustrate the writer’s sympathetic insight, two contrasted verses from “Peace and War (Sunday, November 5, 1854)”:—

“In the carved chancel stalls
Knelt a maiden in the sun;
And the marble on the walls
Told of fields her fathers won:
She was pleading in her love
That her lover might not die:
And the angels wept above
For they heard his dying cry.
****
Underneath the pollard oaks,
Clustered on a grassy knoll
Where the woodman’s ringing strokes
Never slash the slender bole;[224]
Meeting death among his men,
Grasping still his father’s sword,
Never more to charge again,
Lay the loved one on the sward.”

It is clear that Sketchley’s work is too good to pass over without remark. He had the gift of rousing the emotions and kindling the imagination by a skilful touch of scenic colour, as when he speaks of “the grange beyond the wold” (perhaps a recollection of Tennyson’s “old mill across the wold”), and again,

“Where the rectory roses cluster, where the whitened cottage peers,
In the old manorial mansion, eyes were filled with thankful tears.”

The mention of Newark calls up the names of several writers whose works were published in that town when it was a publishing centre. For a more detailed account of these authors and their works the reader is referred to Mr. T. M. Blagg’s chapter on “Newark as a Publishing Town,” in his little book of Newark history.

In 1810, Besthorpe, a Descriptive Poem by a Young Native, was printed by Hage. Charles Snart, solicitor, angler, and poet, brought out a Selection of Poems, containing several pieces by himself. They have many allusions to the Trent and the writer’s love of the rod and line.

In 1823 John Atkin, of North Muskham, published Jonah Tink, the title being an anagrammatic transposition of the letters of the writer’s name. In 1830 appeared Cambria, Raymond, and other Poems, by a Lady; and in the same year The Power of Gold, by H. N. Bousfield, undergraduate of Queen’s College, Cambridge; and in 1862 Sonnets, by Thomas Lester, a schoolmaster at Ossington. At an earlier date (1793) Allen and Ridge had produced Miscellaneous Poems, by R. P. Shilton.

Jonah Tink has no claim to the title of poetry as the elegant expression of subtle or deep feeling, and the idealized description of nature, character, and action; it is merely a rhymed and not over-grammatical account of the rise of an[225] industrious and well-conducted farm-servant to wealth and an influential position; it is a kind of rhymed commentary on Hogarth’s Industrious Apprentice. Its value lies in its descriptive touches of the life of a certain section of society at the time it was written, and its incidental allusions to social abuses and customs. From the preface it appears that Atkin was originally a carpenter and joiner by trade, and afterwards became master of the Free School in his native village. He mentions a visit to a “personally unknown bard,” Mr. Benjamin Kemp, of Farnsfield. He had his full share of pedagogic authoritativeness, and it is amusing to read that he “disbelieved the theory” of Sir Isaac Newton as to gravitation. He makes a disparaging reference to Southey,

“I should ’tis sure
Like S—th—y gain a sinecure,”

adding in a note, “In the year 1818 no fewer than four Marriages of the Royals took place, which formerly would have caused the Laureate to invoke the Sackbut, but not a line had been produced by the State Poet.”

Bousfield’s Power of Gold is more literary in its form. It deals with the warping and corrupting influence of wealth on naturally good dispositions, and is religious in tone, as are many others of Bousfield’s poems. Among the subscribers to the book were Michael Thomas Sadler, M.P.; Dr. Sleath, Master of Repton; and Henry Willoughby, M.P. One line in the poem on wealth, “To temper earth with antepast of heaven,” suggests by its archaism that the writer was familiar with the earlier writers of verse. It is perhaps not without interest to mention that, as the scientific imagination of Erasmus Darwin anticipated the invention of aeroplanes, so John Atkin foreshadowed the era of the bicycle and motor car by his allusion to the actual use in his time of the “velocipede”—a beast which “wanted neither corn nor hay.”

Other local verse-writers who in this paper must be only names are:—Matthew Unwin [1755–1786], Sidney[226] Giles [1814–1846], Charles Hooton [1810–1847], Edward Hind, Lucy Joynes [1781–1851], William Calvert, John Wright, Frank Browne, Mary Ann Carter, William Powers Smith, E. G. Pickering, Samuel Mullen, and H. Bradbury Mellors. Nor should we forget David Love [1750–1827], packman and ballad-monger. He was a Scotchman by birth. Two portraits of him were exhibited by the Thoroton Society at the conversazione held in 1900.

A cursory glance at the work of our local poets will make it plain that they reflect the dominant literary tendencies of various epochs, “the spacious times of great Elizabeth,” when sonnets expressed the amours and gallantries of the Queen’s Court; the dramatic impulse and fantastic compositions of the early Stuart period; the satirical poems of the age of Dryden; the simplicity, fondness for nature, and reflective poetry of Wordsworth and Browning. There do not appear any clear traces of the influence of Keats and Shelley.

It may be objected that much of the verse spoken about is not poetry at all. But the objection is scarcely valid. Great gifts of vivid imagination and creative genius, with the power of apt, vigorous, and melodious expression, are granted to few. Minor writers can, however, act the part of the ancient pædagogos by leading us on to the great masters of thought and song; or, to vary the figure, they dig from the deep mines of thought gems to polish and set for daily use by busy, practical, unlearned men. They change the pure gold into current coin. And though Spedding speaks “of the tricks of these versifying times (about 1842) born of superficial sensibility to beauty and a turn for setting to music the current doctrines and fashionable feelings of the day,” it will be found that, with few exceptions, our writers are honourably distinguished for their independence of thought, and truthful spontaneous naturalness.

In conclusion, this paper lays no claim to exhaustive treatment of its subject, either in respect of the writers[227] enumerated or the short notices of some of them. Time, space, and opportunity have been against both the one and the other. The writer has done his work amid a pressure of other occupations; and he craves the indulgence which is usually shown towards errors or omissions—

“Quas aut incuria fudit,
Aut humana parum cavit natura.”

If his work should be another step onwards towards a complete anthology of the native verse, and should lead Nottinghamshire men to a fuller knowledge and keener appreciation of their county writers, it will have its full reward.

[228]

## NOTTINGHAM
By W. P. W. Phillimore

The first historical reference to Nottingham which we possess is but a little more than a thousand years ago, and though it is likely enough that there were at a very much earlier date some few dwellings along the southern slopes of the hills upon which the city stands, or cave dwellings hewn out of the soft sandstone rock, it is unlikely that it had become of any importance before the Saxon period, to which it is obvious that its name, anciently Snotingaham, belongs. It is apparently tribal in its origin, indicating the home or dwelling of the descendants of Snod; possibly the early form of our modern surname of Snow. There are but few other places in England whose names may have a similar origin. In Kent we find Snode Bridge and Snodland, in Dorset is Nottington, and in Hampshire, a few miles west of Andover, is an obscure hamlet called Snottington. Snenton, now an integral part of Nottingham, is said to have the same derivation, and the local historians identify it with the Notintone of Domesday. Medieval writers have ascribed a much greater antiquity to Nottingham, and have given it the strange name of Tiguocobauc, said to mean a place of caves. The tradition of King Ebranc and of the slaughter of the Britons here points to a belief in medieval days in the great antiquity of the town. But beyond the existence of cave dwellings, which after all may be quite modern in origin, and the discovery of a few bronze implements, we have no tangible evidence of any higher antiquity, and the[229] physical characteristics of the site further militate against the claim. With the forest coming near the town on the north, and the alluvial marsh lands on the south, the site must in early times have been very inaccessible, a fact which doubtless attracted those who first selected the Castle rock as a military stronghold. The Castle and St. Mary’s and Snenton churches form the ends of a double horseshoe. Between them lies the town facing the south, with the rock dwellings of Snenton Hermitage at one end, and those under the Castle rock, known in later times as the Papist Holes, at the other end. Until destroyed by the Great Northern Railway extensions in recent years, the rock dwellings at the foot of the rock at Snenton, on which stands St. Stephen’s Church, were an interesting characteristic of the village.

The Danish invasion of Mercia brought Nottingham into prominence. It became one of the five principal towns of the Danelagh—Derby, Leicester, Lincoln, and Stamford, being the other four—and though the Danish dominion was not of long duration, it left a very permanent mark on the town. The gateways in the town walls were known as “Bars,” instead of “Gates” as in the south of England, and the last of these, Chapel Bar, pulled down in the eighteenth century, still survives in name, forming a familiar part of the great western outlet of the town. The other trace of the Danish occupation is the almost universal use of “Gate” instead of “Street.” Two hundred years ago the only streets were Stoney Street and Pepper Street, the other principal thoroughfares being known as Gates or Rows, while the lesser ones were called Lanes. Wheeler Gate, Goose Gate, Peter Gate, Mary Gate, Long Row, Smithy Row, and Friar Lane are familiar to all Nottingham people, and within the last half century we still had Sheep Lane and Chandlers’ Lane. These last have given place to Market Street and Victoria Street, just as in the previous century Sadler Gate, the continuation of Bridlesmith Gate, very inappropriately became High Street, and[230] Cow Lane and Girdlesmith Gate were renamed Clumber Street and Pelham Street.

Although there was right in the centre of the town one of the largest market-places in the kingdom, the ways out in every direction were remarkably narrow, and even within recent years two carts could not pass one another in Pelham Street, the principal eastern exit. The widening of Cow Lane, now Clumber Street, in the eighteenth century, followed by the demolition of Chapel Bar, improving the ways out on the north and west, were the earliest attempts at town improvement. The latter half of the nineteenth century saw the construction of Albert Street and the widening of Lister Gate on the south, the conversion of Chandlers’ Lane into Victoria Street, and the change in Sheep Lane by widening it so as to form Market Street. King Street and the widening of Wheeler Gate are the most recent of the street improvements in the centre of the town.

As a military post in early times, Nottingham was of considerable importance. The great rock, upon which stood the Castle, with its natural means of defence, was obviously well suited for a military stronghold. The Castle, built or rebuilt by William the Conqueror, was guarded by William Peverel, and somewhat more than a hundred years later it became the stronghold of John, when Earl of Mortein, in his rebellion against his brother, King Richard I, by whom it was besieged in 1194. It was at Nottingham Castle, in 1330, that Edward III struck the blow which ended the usurpation of Isabella and Mortimer, through the help of Eland, the Governor, who revealed to him the existence of the secret passage down into the valley of the Leen, which ever since has borne the name of Mortimer’s Hole, now so familiar to Nottingham people. Throughout his reign Edward III was often at Nottingham Castle, and held some of his Parliaments here. It continued to be a royal fortress and residence, but after the Wars of the Roses was allowed to fall into decay. From the description which Leland the[231] antiquary gives of it in the reign of Henry VIII, the buildings must have been of great extent and importance, but no illustrations of it have been preserved, and there now only remains the entrance gateway of this famous fortress as an indication of its former greatness. A plan of it is given in the local histories, upon which the late Mr. T. C. Hine based an imaginative picture of it. In the reign of James I it was granted to the Earl of Rutland, and so became private property. It was then so ruinous that that King, on his visit to Nottingham, could find no suitable lodging in it, and was obliged to stay in the town itself. Only once again was Nottingham Castle concerned with military matters, and that was in 1642, when King Charles I here raised his standard against the Parliament. The next year it fell into the possession of the Parliament, and was held by the famous Colonel Hutchinson, who defended it against royalist attacks. Of the siege we have the well-known narrative related by Mrs. Hutchinson in the Life of her husband, which she wrote. After the Civil War the Castle was dismantled, and its military history ended. It was afterwards bought by the Duke of Newcastle, who demolished the remains, and in 1674 commenced the erection of the present stately building, which was completed by his son in 1679, but was occupied as a residence by the Newcastle family for hardly a hundred years, being afterwards let to tenants. At the time of the Reform Riots in 1832, it was burnt down by the mob, and remained a blackened ruin until, in 1878, it was acquired on a long lease by the Corporation of Nottingham, and converted into an art museum.

One remarkable feature continued in Nottingham right into the eighteenth century, and that was the division of the town into the English and French boroughs. The English part of the town was that surrounding the mother church of St. Mary; the French, or the new town, comprised the districts now forming the parishes of St. Peter and St. Nicholas. For the two divisions of the borough, between[232] which the market-place was divided, it was customary to elect separate juries. Indeed, the custom of electing two sheriffs and two coroners, which prevailed until the Municipal Reform Act of 1835, has been thought to have a similar origin.

In the middle ages Nottingham was a place of military rather than of ecclesiastical importance. Town and county until the nineteenth century owed allegiance to the far-off cathedral of St. Peter at York. The Grey Friars and the White Friars, as well as the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, had houses here, but of these establishments all traces save street names have long since disappeared. And of the great priory at Lenton, founded by Peverel, there are left only the fragments of two Norman pillars to indicate the strength and majesty of that building. Until the last century there were but three parish churches in the town. St. Peter’s structurally is the most ancient, for parts of it appear to date from the twelfth century, and it may be regarded in some respects as more interesting than the more important church of St. Mary’s. St. Nicholas, the smallest of the three ancient churches, demolished for military reasons in 1647, was rebuilt some thirty years later, and is notable as being one of the comparatively few examples there are of late seventeenth century church work built in the pointed style. But the glory of Nottingham is the great church of St. Mary built in the middle of the ancient English borough, its tower rivalling in prominence the castle at the other end of the town. From an architectural point of view this splendid cruciform church has the advantage that, with the exception of the chancel, which was built at a somewhat later date, the whole of it belongs to the best period of the Perpendicular style. Its present internal characteristic, lightness, was noted by the antiquary John Leland, in Henry VIII’s time, who described it as having “so many fair windows that no artificer could imagine to set more.”

In the early nineteenth century began the building of[233] additional churches necessitated by the growth of the town, and of these the first was St. James on Standard Hill, which in its name commemorates an ancient chapel that had long before disappeared. Of the many new churches which have been built in the past century, or of the efforts of the various nonconformist bodies who similarly have sought to supply the religious requirements of the town, it is impossible here to do more than allude.

The great increase of Nottingham during the past hundred years has been due to the trade of the place, but this is no mere modern development. In the middle ages the “little smith of Nottingham who doth the work that no man can,” was as famous as his successors at the present day upon whose skill depend the great staple trades of lace and hosiery. Smithy Row, Bridlesmith Gate, Girdlesmith Gate, Bellar Gate, and Bellfounders’ Yard point out to us where the ancient craftsmen in metal carried on their industries. Many other trades have been carried on from time to time, and one of these, dyeing, left us a picturesque reminder in the fields of saffron which, in springtime and in autumn, were, until the great extension of building on the southern side of the town, so conspicuous a feature of the Nottingham Meadows.

Until the middle of the nineteenth century the growth and prosperity of the town was greatly restricted by the commonable lands surrounding it which could not be built upon; but in 1845, under an Inclosure Act, the commonable rights were extinguished, thus permitting the needful extension of the town. So long ago as 1787 the need of inclosure was realised, but steadily and persistently opposed by the Corporation, whose past action largely contributed to the creation of insanitary areas, which in recent years have in some measure been swept away at a vast expense, partly by railway extensions without cost to the town, partly under improvement schemes at the expense of the ratepayer.

The population of Nottingham, less than 25,000 at the end[234] of the eighteenth century, has increased at least tenfold in the past hundred years. An ancient borough by prescription, now a titular city, it has a series of charters from the time of Henry II, and for more than 600 years has had a mayor and the right of returning members to Parliament. It is also a county in itself, though through the supposed exigencies of the case the site of the Shire Hall in the middle of the town belongs to the county. The Corporation is a very wealthy body, possessed of large estates producing more than £30,000 a year, besides the revenue which it draws from the profits of its commercial undertakings, such as the trams, the gasworks, and the waterworks, not to mention the contributions of the ratepayers, whose burdens, despite the Corporation estates, are not less than those of other towns. In 1877 the area of the borough was extended by the inclusion of the neighbouring parishes of Snenton, Lenton, Radford, Basford, and Bulwell, and in 1897 it was by royal charter created a city.

Some reference may properly be made to the individual activity of Nottingham citizens. The religious work of the town is mainly dependent upon voluntary contributions, and in medical matters the various hospitals of the town form a striking testimony to this principle; while voluntary education is well represented by the High School and the Blue Coat School. Even the University College owes its origin to the anonymous gift of £10,000, and it is a matter of common knowledge that the great religious and social organisation known as the Salvation Army, which is based wholly upon volunteer work, was founded by a native of Nottingham. The literary activity of the town has not been small. In the middle of the eighteenth century, Dr. Standfast, the rector of Clifton, founded the professional library known by his name, which is merged in Bromley House Library, established in 1816. But even in much humbler ranks of life the value of books was recognised. Few perhaps realise what the working classes of Nottingham did before rate-supported libraries[235] were started. Seventy years ago there were at least six operatives’ libraries supported by the weekly pence of working men, and the remarkable point about them—surprising perhaps to modern philanthropists—is, that they were situated at obscure taverns in some of the poorest parts of the town. That at the Rancliffe Arms, founded in 1835, had 2200 volumes; another at the Seven Stars owned about 1800 volumes, and the one at the Alderman Wood possessed 2150 volumes, while the Oddfellows’ Library had 2300. There was another at the People’s Hall, and in 1836 was founded the Mechanics’ Institution, which, with its library, lectures, and classes, has done such valuable work for the intellectual advancement of the town, and is a centre of great literary activity. Even the rate-supported Public Library was based upon the old Artisans’ Library, which was founded as long ago as 1824.

At Nottingham is one of the ancient crossing places of the river Trent, the history of which dates back about a thousand years, for the building of a bridge here has been ascribed to Edward the Elder. The large expanse of alluvial land between the town and the present bed of the Trent necessitated in fact more than one bridge, as is hinted at in the colloquial plural form, not perhaps yet obsolete, of the Trent bridges, instead of merely Trent bridge. Passing the meadows from the foot of St. Mary’s rock, a series of bridges carried the London road to the narrow stone bridge of eighteen or twenty arches, which, forty years ago, was superseded by the present bridge of stone and iron.

Medieval records have much to tell us of the building of the Trent bridge. Then, as now, the maintenance of the bridge was provided for without calling upon the townsmen for enforced contributions in the shape of rates. Seven hundred years ago the care and maintenance of the bridge was undertaken by the Hospital of St. John, in Nottingham, and in 1231 we have the record of “indulgences” of thirteen days given to those aiding in the building of the bridge of Hoybel at Nottingham—doubtless the structure known in[236] later times as the Hethbeth bridge, a name of which the origin has not been satisfactorily determined.

Bridges, then, were largely maintained with ecclesiastical support by voluntary gifts, as is shown by various episcopal records granting “indulgences” for their benefit. A chapel was commonly associated with a bridge, and the Trent bridge, with the chapel of St. Mary at the north end, was no exception to the rule. In 1303 John le Paumer of Nottingham, and Alice his wife, settled property in Nottingham amounting to the substantial annual value of £6, 13s. 5d. for the endowment of two chaplains for a daily service in the chapel of St. Mary at Hethbeth bridge, “for the souls of them, their ancestors, and all Christians who assign their goods or part of them for the maintenance of the bridge.” John le Paumer died within the next few years, but his widow, Alice le Paumer, continued the good work, and in 1311 she obtained a grant of pontage, or the right of levying tolls on wares brought over the bridge, in order to provide the necessary funds, and provision was made for auditing the proceeds and the expenditure which she incurred. For fifteen or sixteen years the work seems to have continued under her care, for there exists in the Patent Rolls record of various grants to this lady in connection with the bridges. In 1314 occurs the specific statement that she was then building the bridge of Hethbeth, and four years later that the right to take pontage is extended for a further period of four years to provide also for the repair of any bridge to be built between Hethbeth bridge and the land towards “Gameleston,” now Gamston. This second bridge seems to have been built within the space of two years, for in July 1321 it was still spoken of as “to be built,” and in November 1323 it is stated to be “newly built.” In 1324 Alice le Paumer received a further grant of pontage for three years for the repair of Hethbeth bridge and “the bridge of the new breach by the said bridge.”

It is not altogether easy to determine what these two bridges were. Between our modern Trent bridge and the[237] land towards Gamston there could not have been any bridge, and the situation of the two bridges must be sought for somewhere in the London road between the town and West Bridgford. The Hethbeth bridge has been assumed to be, and probably correctly, the southern part of that series of arches which carry the roadway over the meadows to the south of the Leen. From the alluvial conformation of the land it is not unlikely that the Trent may have altered its course, or that it may have become divided here. If so the old stone bridge demolished some forty years ago would be that built by Alice le Paumer about 1321–1323, and described as the bridge of the “new breach,” an expression perhaps indicative of some new course then made by the Trent.

The ancient stone bridge, which the older inhabitants of the city well remember, stood a little to the west of the present iron structure. One or two of the arches at the southern end have been left standing, and they indicate its width, or perhaps one might rather say its narrowness, in medieval times, though at some later period the bridge was widened, but not sufficiently to permit of a footpath on either side, and the only refuge from the traffic available for pedestrians was to be found in the angular recesses which surmounted the buttresses. Most of the arches of the bridge were pointed and narrow, dating probably from the time of Alice le Paumer, but those at the northern end had been rebuilt in the seventeenth century in a wider and rounded style. It was a picturesque and interesting structure, and as far as traffic was concerned at the time of its demolition, amply sufficed for the needs of the district. Only on market days was the foot passenger troubled by the traffic across the bridge—a great contrast to the present time, when the bridge has to serve the requirements of the populous suburb which has taken the place of the little country village of West Bridgford. It was in 1870 that the present Trent bridge was opened to traffic, and shortly after the ancient structure, which for so many centuries had served[238] the needs of the men of Nottingham, was removed, all save the arches, which serve as the entrance to the riverside walk to Wilford. Those who are curious about relics of the past may like to know that some of the stonework of the old Trent bridge was utilised in building a new aisle to Plumtree Church.

The Trent bridge is richly endowed, and out of the revenues of the bridge estate were provided the funds needed to build the present structure, without recourse to the ratepayer. These endowments are of ancient standing, and in an extension of this system of voluntary endowment followed by our ancestors may yet be found the way to relieve the ratepayer of the ever-increasing burden of local taxation.

Half a century ago there were in the county but two bridges across the Trent—at Nottingham and Newark. Now we have in addition those at Wilford and Gunthorpe, besides the two railway bridges at Nottingham. As against this must be set the recent discontinuance of the ancient ferry which from Roman times or even earlier had existed at Littleborough.

This sketch of the history and character of a great city is imperfect, as such attempts must be when limited to the space of a few pages. Perhaps it will suffice to show that Nottingham is no mean city, but one of which the inhabitants are rightly proud. Those who have settled there by choice, and those who are natives of the town, alike pride themselves upon it with good reason.

[239]

## SOUTHWELL
By W. E. Hodgson
Priest-Vicar of Wells Cathedral, and late Assistant-Curate of Southwell Minster

Hidden in a hollow amidst the undulating downs which skirt the vale of Trent, Southwell has escaped the notice which it deserves from both the antiquary and the historian. Its annals are not wildly exciting, for the streets of the little township have not often resounded to the clash of arms, nor its halls been the scene of statesmen’s high debate; but its history is really interesting to the serious student, for in some ways it is unique. And above all, the lover of our church architecture finds in the stones of the Minster a majesty of conception, mixed with an extreme delicacy of detail, which it is not easy to excel.

The best way to approach Southwell is to travel by the road from Nottingham which passes through Thurgarton, the low road the natives call it, for when the pilgrim has breasted Brackenhurst Hill, he is greeted by a truly artistic view: the sight of Southwell Minster nestling in the valley below, framed in a plentiful surrounding of trees, and banked with a pleasing profusion of red-tiled roofs. It is the south side of the church which is thus seen, and the picture of the cathedral standing in the midst of green fields, once the Archbishop of York’s park, seems the very ideal of peace and tranquillity. It is indeed a true epitome of the whole story of the church and town.

The history of Southwell is known to reach back to[240] the year 956, but like many other places whose origins are uncertain, that history has been extended still further back into the past, till it rests on the very weakest of foundations. The mistake arose partly, no doubt, from a desire to attach to the church the well-known name of some pioneer of Christianity in this land, and partly from the mistaken identity of the locality of Tiovulfingacester, the place near which, so Bede tells us, Paulinus baptized large numbers of converts in the Trent. Camden, who is followed by all the local historians, describes Paulinus as the founder of the first church at Southwell, but there is no real evidence to support this assertion, and we must be content to admit that the origin of the place is unknown. The locality, however, was inhabited during the Roman occupation of Britain, for undoubted Roman remains have been discovered. A piece of pavement can be seen beneath some old wooden stalls in the south limb of the transept of the Minster, and when some digging was in progress a few years ago in the garden of the Residence House, to the east of the Minster, the remains of a Roman wall were discovered. These remains were photographed before they were covered up again, and it is quite possible in the summer to trace the course of the masonry beneath the lawn by the lighter shade of green which it causes the grass above it to assume. Experts, to whom the fragments of pottery and other things which have been dug up in the garden have been shown, are convinced of their genuineness. Whether the Roman occupation took the form of a villa or an encampment we cannot tell; but the sheltered hollow in which Southwell lies is one that would have taken the fancy of some magnate seeking a site for his country house, for it would have been easily accessible from the Trent, and was also within a few miles of the Fosse way. But this is all conjecture, and though at any time the spade may reveal direct evidence of earlier history, yet at present we can only start with certainty at the year 956 A.D.[241]

There is no direct evidence to show in what diocese Southwell lay before 956, for it is uncertain whether that part of Nottinghamshire belonged to Lindsey or Mercia. If the boundary lay to the west of Southwell, then it was in Lindsey and in the diocese of Sidnaceaster,[52] and the province of York, but if to the east, it was in Mercia, and so in the diocese of Lichfield and the province of Canterbury. Nottingham itself was in Mercia,[53] but Newark seems always to have belonged to the Archbishops of York, and so was probably in Lindsey.[54] There is ample evidence to suppose that the boundary lay between Southwell and Newark, a supposition to which the connection of the former with St. Eadburg lends weight. This connection of St. Eadburg is unfortunately not at all clear. In a tractate on the burial-places of English saints, which was apparently a kind of pilgrims’ guide to famous shrines (the oldest extant copy is assigned to the year 1015), there is the following entry: “There resteth St. Eadburg in the Minster near the water which is called Trent.” St. Eadburg, abbess of the monastery of Repton, died at the beginning of the eighth century; she was a lady of Mercian royal descent, and the friend of St. Guthlac, the founder of Croyland, to whom on one occasion she sent a coffin and a winding-sheet, with a request that he should use them when the proper time arrived. These strange gifts St. Guthlac is said to have ordered to be used after his death.[55]

St. Eadburg of Repton is generally considered to be the saint of that name whose shrine was mentioned in the pilgrims’ guide as being at Southwell. But why was she buried at Southwell? It has been conjectured that she founded a monastery there; but there is no evidence of[242] this, and as far as we have any certain knowledge there does not seem to have ever been a time when any regular Order was established at Southwell. Tradition also is silent on the point. Before 956 Southwell was probably a royal estate, and perhaps one of the least disturbed parts of Mercia. Besides, in those days, the peregrinations of the bones of saints were not infrequent, and St. Eadburg’s must have been moved to Southwell some time after her death, as it appears that St. Eadburg’s body lay at the Monastery of Limming or Lyminge in Kent for over 150 years. For there are references to her in two charters in Birch’s Cartularium Saxonicum.

(1) A grant of land in Canterbury, A.D. 804, by Coenulph, King of the Mercians, and Cuthred, King of the Cantuarii, to Selethryth, Abbess of the Convent at Limming, “ubi pausat corpus beatæ Eadburgæ.” (B.C.S. 317, Cod. Dip. 188.)

(2) A grant by Athelstan to the church of St. Mary, Lyminge, of land at Vlaham or Elham in Kent, A.D. 964. In this charter Lyminge is described as the place “ubi sepulta est sancta Eadburga.” (B.C.S. 1126.)

If these charters are genuine, an interesting question is raised. What was the connection of St. Eadburg with Lyminge, and why was her body moved, so long after her death, to Southwell? A possible answer to the second question is that her bones were moved to Southwell by order of King Edgar, to enhance by their presence, the gift of land at Southwell, which King Eadwig had made to Oskytel of York in 956.[56] If this was so, the body was probably moved to Southwell very shortly after 964. This grant of land by King Eadwig to Archbishop Oskytel of York, in 956, is the first real fact in the history of Southwell. The genuineness of the charter which embodies this[243] gift has been called in question, but the balance of evidence seems distinctly in favour of its authenticity. The extent of the lands granted to the archbishop, as far as can be made out from the charter,[57] corresponds roughly to the territory now belonging to the two parishes of Southwell, St. Mary and Holy Trinity.[58]

It is not meant to infer that there was no church at Southwell before 956, but that up till then it had most probably been one of the numerous minsters or parochial churches distributed over the county. Some people still think, because the church at Southwell is called “the Minster,” that it was once served by monks. Such was not the case, and it is a noticeable fact that the churches to which this name has clung were none of them monastic—York, Lincoln, Beverley, and Southwell. The word “Monasterium,” the Bishop of Bristol[59] says, “is used in the Middle Ages for a parish church in the country. ‘Minster’ has always been a special Yorkshire word, York Minster, Beverley Minster.”

An interesting fact about this grant of land by Eadwig to Oskytel is that it seems to be the first recorded instance of a grant of private jurisdiction, the archbishop being given sac and soc over his new estate. Oskytel did not, in all probability, leave the church purely parochial, but established a college of Secular Canons there, whose duty it was to serve the Minster, and also to look after the neighbouring churches. If he founded the college he would also most likely rebuild and enlarge the church to make it more worthy of its higher position. Though at this period the history of Southwell seems to consist only of probabilities, yet we do know for certain that by the Norman Conquest there was a College of Canons there who were prebendaries, for Domesday Book, in speaking[244] of the lands which the archbishop possessed at Southwell, describes two bovates as being “in a prebend.” This is very interesting, for very few, if any, other canons held their land as prebendaries before the Conquest, those of the great church at York not reaching that status till the episcopate of Thomas of Bayeux[60] (1070–1100). Also Archbishop Ealdred (1060–1070) is recorded as having bought land to “found prebends” at Southwell.

This College of Secular Canons had a remarkable career. At the time of the Conquest they were seven in number, and by the end of the thirteenth century they had grown to sixteen, at which number they remained until the dissolution of the Chapter seventy years ago. The history of this college may not be exciting, but its career is most interesting, for it lasted from before the eleventh century until the year 1840. No other ecclesiastical corporation in the country had such a long existence, surviving the storms of the Reformation to be swept away by the almost fanatical wave of reform which raged over England during the second quarter of the nineteenth century.

But we must return to earlier days. Even after the first real fact of 956 the history of Southwell remains very incomplete, nothing but a few scraps of information rewarding the most diligent search, and the reader must bear in mind that the meagre scraps that are to be picked up are almost entirely ecclesiastical, for the history of Southwell consists simply of the history of the Chapter and their church.

Ælfric Puttoc, Archbishop of York (1023–1050), is said, like many of his successors, to have lived at Southwell, and to have died there. He was a very worldly-minded prelate and bears a bad reputation, though he is said to have been a great benefactor to Southwell; which is quite likely as he particularly favoured the great secular churches of his diocese, and among other things organised[245] the College of Canons at Beverley. He was, however, a magnificent patron of the abbey of Peterborough where he was buried. His successor Kinsi (1050–1060), gave some large bells to Southwell, and Ealdred, who succeeded him, bought lands to found prebends there, and also built, both at Southwell and York, a refectory.[61] Ealdred was fated to be the last Saxon archbishop, and he seems to link the Saxon and Norman races together by the fact that he crowned both Harold and William the Conqueror. We know of little intercourse between Thomas of Bayeux, the first Norman Archbishop of York, and Southwell, but his successor Gerard, a man of great learning, and one who played a curious part in the political and ecclesiastical life of William II.’s reign, is supposed to have rebuilt the palace. He is a man who has not had justice done him in contemporary history. He held very advanced views on Church matters, and was in great disfavour because his studies were far too secular for those days, being devoted to mathematics and astronomy. His zeal for these subjects only drew down on him the suspicion of dabbling in magic and evil practices, and he was verily believed to have sold himself to the devil for the sake of forbidden knowledge.[62] Gerard spent much time at Southwell, where he died, and the story of his death is worth recording. On May 21, 1108, the archbishop had been dining and went for a walk in the garden “near the dormitory.” Lying down to rest on a bank with his head on a cushion he not unnaturally fell asleep, but it was, in the words of the chronicler,[63] “a fatal sleep,” for he never woke again. His end was regarded as most shocking, not so much for the way of his death, but because underneath the cushion on which his head had[246] rested was found a book by Julius Firmicus, a writer on mathematics and astrology. His last moments had thus been given to the study of the black arts, and his sudden end was regarded as the righteous judgment of Heaven for indulging in such a sin. His body was carried from Southwell to York by an “unfrequented road,” and on its arrival was not met, as was usual, by the citizens and clergy of the cathedral, but by noisy boys who irreverently pelted the bier with stones. He was buried outside the cathedral without any funeral rites, and it was left to his successor to transfer his body from this unhallowed grave to a more fitting resting-place within the Minster church. Perhaps it was not only his secular studies and untimely end that caused the canons of York to treat his body with such disrespect, for it is probable that they bore him no good will because he had zealously tried to reform their morals and discipline, which were very lax. Another reason why Gerard’s body was treated with such indignity, and which made his contemporaries feel so sure that his life beyond the grave would be anything but happy, was the fact that he had died without making a will, and so had made no bequests to the Church or to the poor which might have atoned for his evil life.

Gerard was succeeded by another Thomas, nephew to Thomas of Bayeux, who had been made by his uncle the first Provost of the College of Canons at Beverley. He is of no importance in history except for the not very noble part he played in the long dispute between the sees of Canterbury and York concerning the right of allegiance which the former demanded from the latter. But for our purpose Thomas of Beverley is famous, “for he may be regarded as the builder of the present nave of Southwell Minster.”[64] Though Thomas, who died in[247] 1114, would not have seen his church rise much above the ground, yet to him is due the initiation of the scheme which other men carried through, the result of which we of these latter days still wonder at and enjoy. Forty years at least would such a church take in building, and it was probably not half completed when the troubles of Stephen’s reign began. A chance entry in the continuation by John of Hexham of the Historia Regum of Symeon of Durham helps us to suggest a date by which the church was almost if not quite finished. Under the year 1143 is the following remark: “William Painel, commander of the troops in Nottingham, moved a band of soldiers to Southwell, wishing to break down the wall by which the precincts (consepta) of the church of St. Mary were protected, in order to pillage. A number of the inhabitants who had gathered in the neighbourhood of the place manfully defended it.” This entry is interesting, for it not only tells us that even the peace of Southwell was disturbed by the upheavals of the Civil War, and that the common people were zealous to defend their church, but it also gives us reason to believe that the church itself was probably finished by then, for it is not likely that time would be spent in building a wall capable of being defended round the precincts until the church inside was completed, for it was not till the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries that the corporate bodies which controlled our greater churches looked to their own homes first and largely left the houses of God, which were under their charge, to look after themselves.

We may also note an incident recorded in the continuation of the Chronicle of Florence of Worcester (sub anno 1137), for it is interesting as being a case of the miraculous. “At Southwell, an archiepiscopal town, while a grave was being prepared for interment, the relics of some saints and a glass vessel containing some very clear water, supported on uprights, which apparently protected it from being broken, were found; this being given to the sick and taken by them,[248] they were restored to health.” Perhaps these were the relics of St. Eadburg which, after the Conquest, may have been removed from the church and buried in an unknown grave, for the Normans did all they could, for political reasons, to discourage the veneration of the Saxon saints.

But to return to Thomas of Beverley and the Minster he set a-building. We can imagine, then, that the first part to be constructed was the choir and the lower stages of the central tower, and as much of the nave and transepts as would be required to give abutment to the tower arches;[65] and experts tell us that the western part of the nave is distinctly later in character. Mr. J. Bilson attributes the aisle vaults of the nave to c. 1130, and also gives as his opinion that the Norman choir of the Minster did not have a square east end, but that what has been taken for traces of such an end probably indicate a broad sleeper wall across the chord of the apse, as at St. Mary’s, York, and Selby Abbey.[66] Of this church the nave and transepts remain to-day as a fitting memorial to Thomas of Beverley.

The choir of the Norman church which was pulled down to make room for the present one consisted probably only of three bays, and would, in fact, form but the presbytery and sanctuary of the church, the ritual choir being extended westwards as far as the first or second bay of the nave. Our authority for saying that Thomas of Beverley was the archbishop who started building the Norman Minster depends on a letter which is preserved in the Liber Albus of Southwell—the oldest manuscript book preserved in the library. The commencement of the compilation of the White Book dates from about the beginning of the fourteenth century, but it contains copies of documents dating back as far as the beginning of the twelfth century. The White Book consists of Papal Bulls, Royal and Episcopal Letters, and charters and other documents connected with[249] the privileges and property of the collegiate church. The letter in question runs, when translated into English, thus: “Thomas, by the grace of God (Archbishop of York) to all his parishioners of Nottinghamshire, greeting in the blessing of God. We pray you, as most beloved sons, that for the forgiveness of your sins you will help, by the blessing of your alms towards the building of the church of St. Mary of Southwell. And whosoever, even in the least degree, shall give the smallest assistance shall be to the end of time a participator in all the prayers and benefactions that shall be done in that and all our other churches. And this ye ought to do more willingly that we release you from the need of visiting each year the church of York, as all our other parishioners do, but instead (you shall visit) the church of Southwell, and there have the same pardon that ye have at York.”

It will be noticed that the letter does not say which Thomas is the author, but all the evidence we can gather, and the style of the Minster itself, make it certain that it was Thomas of Beverley (1108–1114). This letter also tells us of something else that Thomas did for Southwell. He made that church a pro-cathedral for the county of Nottingham by allowing the parishes to send their representatives there instead of to York Minster, on the annual pilgrimage to fetch the chrism required by each parish for the year, and also to pay at the same time their accustomed dues. The chrism, which as a rule was consecrated by the bishop in his cathedral on Easter Eve, was used in baptism, confirmation, and extreme unction. It was consecrated at York, and a portion sufficient for the parishes of Nottinghamshire was sent to Southwell, and distributed on the morrow of Whitsunday to the representatives of the parishes who had journeyed there. Thus it was called the Whitsuntide procession. To be the goal of the Whitsuntide procession was a great privilege, for it brought honour and profit to the church and town. This custom continued down till the time of[250] Archbishop Drummond, towards the close of the eighteenth century, by whose mere fiat it was abolished, though, of course, through the changes in the value of money the dues then paid were of no material advantage. The chrism, needless to say, had not been distributed subsequent to the Reformation. The church of York had at one time tried to take the Pentecostal offerings away from Southwell, and a warm dispute ensued, which was only terminated by Pope Innocent III. This Whitsuntide procession, which was started by Thomas of Beverley to encourage the county of Nottingham to help in building the church, became the great event of the year in the little country town. Shilton, in his History of Southwell (published in 1818), quoting from an older book, tells us that the Mayor and Corporation of Nottingham, with the Justices of the Peace, till quite recent times kept up the custom of riding to Southwell on Whit Monday, all decked in their best clothes, and bringing with them their “Pentecostals” or “Whitsun farthings.” Apparently the Mayor was allowed a certain discretion, and sometimes did not come “because of the foulness of the way or destemperance of the weder.” The money used to be paid in the north porch of the Minster, and even after the procession was given up for a long time the Chapter clerk attended for form’s sake in the porch on Monday in Whit Week, although the money was collected by the apparitor at the Chapter’s visitation in the county. The payment of this money long before it was given up had become a mere form, so trifling were the amounts—Nottingham itself only paying 13s. 4d. and Southwell 5s.—yet at one time this must have meant a large sum of money and have been a great help towards the upkeep of the fabric of the church. Southwell was very gay on Whit Monday with the representatives of two hundred and five odd parishes riding into the little town. Whit Week was long regarded as Southwell Feast week, when merry village sports and other pastimes made a welcome break in the peaceful progress of the year. The greatest attractions[251] were the donkey and pony races from Burgage Green to the top of Hockerton Hill and back. Nothing is left of all these enjoyments now, and the whole feast has degenerated into Southwell Races, which are held at Rolleston.

It must have been a real blessing for the inhabitants of Nottinghamshire to have been excused the tiresome journey to York once a year; yet irksome as that duty was we can well believe that in those days it was regarded as a sacred obligation and as such was faithfully fulfilled. Yet the hearts of Nottingham men must have swelled with gladness when they heard the letter read which gave them leave to go to Southwell instead, and they blessed the goodness of Thomas of Beverley. Besides this, Thomas is thought to have added two more to the number of prebends, and altogether he may be counted as one of the greatest benefactors the church of Southwell ever had.

In the few pages allotted to the history of Southwell in this volume it is impossible to give a complete or consecutive account of even the little that we know about the place. We must therefore be content with an item here and there, remembering that much interesting matter has had to be omitted for want of space.

The Minster was enlarged and made more beautiful as time went on, and the Chapter was increased by successive archbishops and its privileges multiplied, but it never became a very wealthy body, and at times we hear of complaints of poverty, and even of inability to keep up the style of worship expected in so great a church. Statutes were given to the church by Archbishops Walter de Grey (1216–1256), John le Romeyne (1286–1296), and Thomas de Corbridge (1300–1304) either to reform abuses or to make better provision for the service of God and the welfare of the church and its ministers. By the days of le Romeyne the Chapter reached the number (16) at which it remained till its dissolution. The canons were all technically equal, for there was no dean, except apparently for a short time in the days of[252] Walter de Grey, who perhaps tried the experiment of appointing one in order to improve the discipline of the college. Several charters in the White Book are signed by “Hugh, Dean,” who generally, though not always, put his name first. There is also one signature of a “Henry, Dean,” but this is most likely a mistake, because if Walter de Grey did once appoint a dean there seems little evidence that the experiment was repeated, and it is doubtful if the one appointed was able to exercise much authority. So the college remained a corporate body of sixteen canons, all equal in rank, though the Prebendary of Normanton (near Southwell) seems to have had more privileges than the others, as he appointed the parish vicar of Southwell, and as chancellor had the appointment of the mastership of the grammar schools throughout the county. Besides the sixteen canons, there were sixteen vicars, mostly in priests’ orders, connected with the Minster, one being presented for institution to the Chapter by each canon. These vicars were the representatives of the canons in the Minster, and they were needed, as the evil of non-residence was felt at a very early date, and none of the steps taken to check it had any permanent effect. Besides the vicars there grew up in time a large college of chantry priests, and at the time of the Reformation the number of clergy attached to the church was quite fifty. The vicars had lodgings in the Vicars’ Close, and a common hall where the present Residence House stands, which was taken from the vicars about the beginning of the seventeenth century. The vicars of Southwell, though a numerous body, with their own rights and privileges, never became so numerous or important and independent a body as the college of vicars at Wells.

On rare occasions Southwell creeps into the history of the nation, only, however, to retire once more into seclusion amidst the peace of its undulating hills. At the end of August 1189 the town witnessed an ecclesiastical function of some importance. Geoffrey Plantagenet, the natural and[253] only faithful son of Henry II., had been appointed by his brother, Richard I., to the see of York at the great council held at Pipewell, in Northamptonshire, about a week before. But Baldwin, Archbishop of Canterbury, claimed the right of consecrating him, and forbade him either to receive priests’ orders or consecration from anybody but himself, and appealed to the Pope to support his rights, reminding the King and Court of the old dispute between Canterbury and York, which had continued so long in the days of the first three Norman kings. Geoffrey had meanwhile got into trouble with the King, who cancelled his appointment to York. Nothing daunted, Geoffrey set out for Southwell, the nearest church of importance in the diocese of York, taking with him John, Bishop of Whithern, his suffragan, who himself had only been consecrated at the recent council at Pipewell by John, Archbishop of Dublin. At Southwell, on August 29th, the Bishop of Whithern ordained Geoffrey priest.[67] Though Geoffrey was soon reconciled to the King, yet Richard had no intention of allowing him to be consecrated, and insisted on his promising to remain out of England while the King went on a crusade. Poor Geoffrey is one of the most pitiable characters of this period. Misfortune seemed to dog his footsteps, while he had the unfortunate knack of quarrelling with every one with whom he had to deal. In 1190 Richard sent Hugh, Bishop of Durham, back to England with letters in which he appointed him Justiciary north of the Humber. Hugh met William of Ely, the Chancellor and Regent of the kingdom, at Ely, and showed him the letters. The Chancellor said he was willing to obey the King’s orders, and in a friendly way travelled with Hugh as far as Southwell, where he suddenly arrested him, and kept him in custody till he had surrendered to him the castle of Windsor and made other concessions.[68] On April 4, 1194, the Monday[254] in Holy week, a more distinguished pair met at Southwell—Richard of England and William of Scotland—and there debated on the differences between them, departing together the next day to Melton.[69] But these were isolated events, and the comings and goings of kings and rulers did not often disturb the peace of the little town. Besides the doings at Whitsuntide, the visits of the different archbishops would be the greatest excitement, for when in England they would spend, no doubt, some part of each year at their manor of Southwell, for it was commodious and near to London; besides, in those days it was customary for great men to travel from manor to manor, and stay long enough to consume the provisions and stores laid up, for it was not possible for one manor to support a great dignitary and all his retinue for more than three weeks or a month at a time.

The old Norman choir in which Geoffrey had been ordained was not destined to stand much longer, for about the year 1220 or 1230 Walter de Grey started to build the present choir. We know for certain that in 1233 he issued an indulgence of thirty days to all who should help by their alms towards the completion of this new work. For the description of the choir, as of the other parts of the building, the reader must refer to the excellent guide-books to the Minster; yet we may say here that the choir is as good an example of thirteenth-century work as can be found. Its lightness and elegance, in contrast to the heavy if majestic solidity of the nave, is most pleasing. Next in order of time comes the chapel in the east side of the north transept of the nave, now used as the vestry. This chapel formerly contained two altars of different chantries, but has since been put to various uses; even becoming a song school before the abolition of the chantries. In later years it was the vicar’s vestry, then it became the library until the books were moved to their present home above the chapel in question. The next addition to the Minster[255] was the vestibule to the Chapter House, which was at one time an open cloister; and though the closing up of its eastern side may have added to the comfort not only of the vestibule but of the whole church, it certainly has not improved its appearance. This vestibule leads to the goal of all lovers of Gothic art who visit Southwell—the Chapter House, with its incomparable doorway, which has often been described in words of unstinted praise, and indeed it would be impossible for such praise to be exaggerated. The present writer will not attempt to describe this building, but will quote the words of Mr. G. E. Street, who says: “What either Cologne Cathedral, or Ratisbon, or Weisen Kirche are to Germany, Amiens Cathedral and the Sainte Chapelle are to France, the Scalegere in Verona to Italy, are the Choir of Westminster and the Chapter House at Southwell to England.”[70] Mr. A. F. Leach is of the same opinion when he says: “It is the most perfect work of the most perfect style of Gothic architecture.” It is not only the doorway with its exquisite carving, but the beautiful proportions of the whole Chapter House, and the extreme lightness and delicacy of all its parts and details, that arouses the enthusiasm of the most casual visitor, and holds the expert spell-bound with its charm.

Archbishop John le Romeyne (1286–1296) is the man who set on foot this work. He it was who initiated the rebuilding of the nave and Chapter House at York. For the same man to have started three such beautiful examples of Gothic architecture as the Chapter Houses at Southwell and York, and the nave at York, is indeed to lay posterity under a debt which can never be paid. But his interests were not only architectural. His first care was the moral and spiritual discipline and welfare of the great churches in his diocese. He established, among other things, his right of visitation over his cathedral Chapter, and gave statutes to Southwell which he based on those of York.[256] The next addition of importance to the Minster was the choir screen or pulpitum. Here, again, it does not seem an exaggeration to say that in this feature also Southwell is very hard to beat; for though, unfortunately, the greater number of the carved heads are not the original ones at all, yet as a whole the pulpitum stands unrivalled for its beauty and elegance of design. It was built towards the end of the first half of the fourteenth century. In the White Book there is a copy of a licence granted by Edward III., in 1337, to the Chapter, allowing them the free transit of stone from Mansfield through Sherwood Forest. This licence, which was granted as a result of complaints made by the Chapter that their carts had been unduly made to pay toll by the King’s foresters, is generally supposed to refer to the cartage of material required for building the screen. And therefore the screen has been dated from the year of this licence, 1337; but the present writer is bound to confess that, from an impartial reading of the licence in question, it does not seem to infer that any special work was in progress, but only refers to the stone that would be continually needed for the repair and support of such a fabric as the Minster, and of all the buildings and houses depending on it. Southwell, it must be remembered, had to fetch all its stone from Mansfield, no durable material being found in the neighbourhood. The screen is built in the fully developed Decorated style, and must have been erected somewhere about this time, yet this licence is not nearly explicit enough to warrant any one taking its date as the precise date of the screen itself. The sedilia, remarkable both for their beauty and for the unusual number of seats—five—were built a little later than the screen, and are the last addition of importance which can be entirely praised.

As regards the great west window, which is fifteenth-century work, much as it is needed for the illumination of what would otherwise have been a very dark interior, one cannot help feeling that it is out of keeping with its[257] surroundings, and does not harmonise with the rest of the nave.

So uneventful was life at Southwell during the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries that a recent student of the Chapter records of the later fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries could find nothing else to publish, except the peccadilloes and moral lapses of the vicars-choral and chantry priests which came up before the Chapter for punishment. It is, of course, no excuse to say that the clergy at Southwell were no worse than other like bodies, and it must be admitted that many things happened that ought not to have occurred.

In 1530 a very important person came to Southwell. Cardinal Wolsey had never visited this house of his during the years of his greatness, but after his fall he spent the summer of 1530 there. In Passion Week he travelled from London to Peterborough, and “upon Easter Day in the morning he rode to the resurrection, and that day he went in procession in his vesture cardinal, with his hat and hood upon his head, and he himself sang the high mass there very devoutly; and granted clean remission to all the hearers.”[71] He stayed at Peterborough till the Thursday in Easter Week when he removed to the house, near the town, belonging to Sir William Fitzwilliam, an old friend of his. Here he remained a few days, and then went north, staying nights at Stamford, Grantham, and Newark, and reaching Southwell in the middle of the week after Low Sunday. He could not go to the palace for it wanted repairing, so he lodged in the house of an absent prebendary, removing to the palace about Whitsuntide.

Mr. Dimock, in his book quoted above, gives an extract from a pamphlet, published about fifteen years ago, which starts as follows: “Who was less beloved in the north than my Lord Cardinal before he was amongst them? Who better beloved after he had been there awhile? He[258] gave bishops a right good example how they might win men’s hearts.” On the eve of Corpus Christi he decided to sing high mass in the Minster on the following day, and ordered Cavendish to make all due preparations. Nor was he prevented of his purpose by the fact that during the night two gentlemen arrived from the King, and caused him to be roused, and after some private speech made him sign some paper. At the close of the summer, “at the latter end of grease time,” so Cavendish puts it, he removed to Scrooby, and by departing in the middle of the night disappointed many gentlemen lodging in Southwell, who came to accompany him on his journey through the forest, intending “to lodge a great stag or twain for him by the way.” But he dare not indulge in such honours, for he feared what his enemies would make of such doings with the King, and so departed by night to Welbeck abbey, and was in his bed continuing his night’s rest before his disappointed admirers at Southwell were awake. Greatly grieved were the people of Southwell when the Cardinal left them, for they had received nothing but kindness from him, as did all the people of the places in his dioceses where he stayed from that time till his arrest. From his behaviour during these few weeks it is abundantly evident what a good and wise bishop Wolsey would have made if he had served his God as well as he served his King.

It was not to be expected that the Reformation and the church spoliation indulged in by Henry VIII. and Cromwell would leave Southwell unharmed. The Chapter, perhaps wisely, surrendered their church and estates to the King in 1540. They possessed a kind friend in Cranmer, who was a Nottinghamshire man, and no doubt mainly through his influence Henry refounded the Chapter in 1541. Southwell also was mentioned as one of the fifteen new sees which Henry professed his desire to create out of the spoils of the monasteries and one of the prebendaries—a certain Dr. Cox—was even named as the first bishop. But Henry’s cupidity got the better of his zeal, and the fifteen new[259] dioceses dwindled down to six, and Southwell was not among the chosen few.

But the restored Chapter did not enjoy uninterrupted peace, for at the end of the White Book are copies of three letters from Sir Edward North, Chancellor of the Court of Augmentations, in which he accuses the Chapter of disposing of some of their plate and ornaments, and after rebuking them for so doing, orders them to surrender the goods in question, and despatch them at once to London for the use of the King. Mr. A. F. Leach thinks these letters probably belong to the year 1546.[72] Southwell does not seem to have been affected by the first passing of the Chantries and Colleges Act. Mr. Dimock says: “The Court of Augmentations, to which was entrusted the alienation of the different estates, left Southwell alone, as the list of 1547 shows that the prebendaries and other clergy were in full enjoyment of their benefices.”[73] But this Act was renewed at the beginning of the reign of Edward VI., and the Chapter ceased to exist. “On the petition of the parishioners, the Minster was continued as the parish church; and the sacrist prebendary, John Adams, was made vicar of Southwell at a stipend of £20 a year, with his vicar-choral Matthew Fort, and the old parish vicar, Robert Salwyne, as ‘assistants to the cure,’ with £5 a year each.”[74] The lands of the Chapter, after changing hands once or twice, eventually remained in the possession of John Dudley, duke of Northumberland, and at his attainder lapsed to the Crown. This gave Queen Mary the opportunity she did not often get of restoring church lands to their original owners, and the Chapter was reinstated. No doubt the cause of the Chapter was greatly helped by the influence of Heath, archbishop of York, whom the Queen had appointed on the deprivation of Holgate.[75] But the position of the Chapter was still[260] legally uncertain, because the Act of Suppression had not been repealed. But it was safe during Mary’s reign, and was left in possession by Elizabeth, who granted new statutes for the governance of the college which remained the foundation of its organisation until its dissolution in 1840. It was left to James I. to put the Chapter on a firm legal footing, during whose reign it was argued that the Chapter of St. Mary’s, Southwell, is vested in the Crown by statute of I Edward VI., “thus enabling James I. in 1604 to make the magnanimous grant and confirmation to the Chapter of the collegiate church of Southwell of the site and precinct of the church, and the possessions belonging thereto.”[76] James I.’s interest in the place may have been influenced by the fact that he passed through Southwell on his way to London to take possession of the throne. He was struck with surprise, we are told, at seeing such a church in so small a town. And when some of his Court remarked that York and Durham were far more magnificent structures, James replied rather peevishly in his Scotch accent, “Vare wele, vare wele, but, by my blude, this kirk shall justle with York or Durham, or ony kirk in Christendom.”

Once more the Chapter started on its quiet course, and again its history is for the most part a peaceful blank. We get just a glimpse of the condition of things in 1635 from some odd papers of answers to the visitation articles of the archbishop in that year. The old faults are prominent; canons neglect to keep their residence and let their houses fall into disrepair, and the due amount of sermons and lectures do not seem to have been delivered. One canon in his answers complains that the organist is very negligent in his duties and especially in the management of the choristers, often only correcting them in service time to the great disturbance of the worshippers. “And besides all this,” he goes on, “he is a great lyer as yr lordship knows[261] if you please to remember him ... and as soon as he has made a boy fit for the quire he sells him to some gentleman and soe by this means the quire is impoverished.” The selling and even kidnapping of solo boys seems to have been not uncommon at this time. The same prebendary says that the church needs a “paire of good organs which I wish your Grace would be pleased to contribute something towards and divers other gentlemen would be ready to follow in so good a worke.” He also says that the chimes and clock are much neglected. Another says that he believes “Copes and a decent Corporall and a Bason for the offertory are required” and that “there have been writings taken out of the Treasury.” A third tells the archbishop that in the Treasury “are divers writings, but so laid up that they are in danger of wette, by raine or snowe, if the leads should happen to be faulty, and so confused that it will be hard to finde what the church may stand suddenly in need of. The letters patent of Queen Elizabeth, King James, the authentique copy of the statutes, with divers other evidences and muniments of the church are not there but in the keeping of the Residentiaries. How they were taken out, or what caution taken for the returning of them, he knoweth not.” After reading here how little care was taken for the preservation of the documents of the church it is a cause for thankfulness that as many remain as do.[77] This negligence amply accounts for the great losses the library has sustained, and there is no need to put the blame of their removal or destruction on the shoulders of Cromwell and his Ironsides, as is so commonly done, as if their shoulders had not enough to carry already. The Treasury was described in one of the papers of visitation answers, mentioned above, as “by the Chapter House,” and was probably the room now used as the library.

[262]

During the Civil War Southwell was the scene of much activity. King Charles stayed there on his way to hoist his standard at Nottingham, and he also spent some hours at “The Saracen’s Head” before he gave himself up to the Scottish Commissioners at Kelham. On one occasion he lodged at the palace, but it had been much damaged, for it had been occupied by the troops of both sides. The townspeople mostly favoured the Puritans. This may have been partly due to the fact that Mr. Edward Cludd, the most prominent layman in the town, was a great supporter of Cromwell. After the dispossession of the church he bought Norwood Park, close to Southwell, which had belonged to the archbishop, and built himself a house there. As a magistrate, it was his duty to perform marriages under the new regime, and there was a big oak in the park which was famous as the place where he had tied many couples together. Shilton, who published his history of Southwell in 1818, says the tree was still pointed out and was called Cludd’s Oak. After the Restoration Cludd continued to live at Norwood, leasing the property from the archbishop. Posterity owes a deep debt of gratitude to Mr. Cludd, for it is said to have been due to his influence with Cromwell that the latter did not damage the Church nor pull down the nave, which he certainly intended to do, as he thought the choir large enough for the needs of the parish.

A quotation from Thoroton’s Nottinghamshire is interesting. It refers to a visit of King Charles I. to the town, which took place during the period between the battle of Naseby and his subsequent residence at Oxford. “The King with a few faithful followers took refuge at Southwell. The day after his arrival he walked about the town not known, and entered the shop of a shoemaker, whose name was Lee, who was a fanatic of the day. His Majesty, after some conversation with this man, bid him take measure for a pair of shoes. Lee, on taking the King’s foot in his hand and looking at him attentively, refused to proceed. The King, astonished at the man’s behaviour, desired him to do what he had[263] requested; but the shoemaker actually refused, giving the reason that the King was the customer he had been warned against in a dream the night before, in which he (the customer) was doomed to destruction, and those who worked for him would never thrive. The forlorn monarch, whose misfortunes had opened his mind to the impressions of superstitions, uttered an ejaculation expressive of his resignation to the will of providence, and returned to the palace, which was the place of his abode.”[78]

There is also a story that during the Civil War a lady took refuge in the room over the north porch, and that during the time of her concealment she gave birth to a child. It is said that all the time she was hiding from the Puritans, a body of these men were camping in the church, and her terror at being discovered was not lessened by hearing their shouts and ribaldry so near at hand. She was kept alive by an old friend who crept in every night to bring her food and render her what other assistance was possible in her terrible predicament. The Commonwealth soldiers stayed for some time in Southwell, especially during the siege of Newark, and many skirmishes are reported to have taken place in the neighbourhood, but there seems to be no truth in the tradition that Cromwell bombarded the palace, although the so-called trenches which were made for his guns are pointed out on the neighbouring hill to the south. The unfortunate part of the story is that these trenches, which are really gravel pits, are situated at a much greater distance from the palace than any cannon of that period could carry; and also that part of the palace which faces these very pits is to-day the best preserved part of the ruins.

It may also be added that it would have been a marvellous thing that the church should have escaped if any considerable bombardment had taken place.

After the troubles of the Commonwealth a more[264] profound peace than ever enveloped Southwell. Matters, of course, had to be put straight again, and there are extant two letters of Charles II. written just after the Restoration, one of which orders the Chapter to provide a sufficient maintenance for the ministers who officiate in the parochial churches appropriated to the Chapter, implying that the Chapter had rather starved such livings, and ordering them to increase the emoluments up to the value of £80 a year. The other letter is addressed to certain gentlemen directing them to “seize and secure into safe hands and places all the rents and revenues,” together with all the woods and other property belonging to the Chapter in Nottinghamshire.

Nothing much of interest happened during the last 180 years of the Chapter’s existence. On November 5, 1711, a fire, caused by lightning, broke out in the south-west tower of the nave and the flames destroyed the roof of the nave and the organ and melted the bells in the central tower. At the end of the eighteenth century the houses in the Vicars’ Court had grown so old and dilapidated that they had to be pulled down and the present ones were erected in their stead. At the beginning of the nineteenth century fears, quite unfounded, were felt as to the safety of the spires on the western towers, and so the towers were literally beheaded and the tops battlemented instead. The spires were restored about thirty years ago, but after comparing them with old pictures of the former ones they do not seem nearly so shapely, and are even thought to be grotesque by some people.

The Chapter Decree Books, which from 1661–1840 are fairly complete, contain nothing of great moment. There are mentions of organ repairs and the duties of the ringing men, the prohibition of fives playing against the walls of the church, the regular entry of a decree “that the Dogg-whipper shall have a new coat as usual.” This official was doubtless the man who wielded the dog-tongs, though such an instrument is not mentioned. His office is continued to this day in a certain verger who is on duty on Sundays and[265] any special occasions, and marks his descent from the old dog-whipper by always carrying a long wand. In 1798 there is an entry that the tradesmen shall be paid £61, 9s. 2d. for putting up a new bed in the Residence House, which certainly seems a large sum for such an article. In 1820 it is decreed that an alteration be made in the wine cellars of the Residence House so as to furnish room for the accommodation of each prebendary. There were sixteen prebendaries supposed to keep a residence of three months each in turn, and it looks as if some of them did not wish their wines to get mixed up with those of their less fastidious colleagues. In 1805 the Chapter accepted the gift of the Brass-Eagle lectern, now in the choir, which had belonged to Newstead abbey, and had lain for more than 200 years at the bottom of the lake at Newstead, where it had been hidden by the monks at the dissolution of the monasteries.

There is one curious entry of which no explanation is given. On June 23, 1806, it is “decreed that the last seat in the South Side be allotted to the Prior of Thurgarton.” What this means it is impossible to say; this seat had always been given by courtesy to the Prior of Thurgarton, while such a dignitary existed, because he was head of the nearest important religious house.

In the history of the town itself there is nothing much to relate. Southwell seems to have been quite a gay little place at the beginning of the nineteenth century. There were archery meetings and a flourishing bachelors’ club and numerous dances—the Assembly Rooms being built in 1808 for this purpose—a theatre was built in 1816, and there was a billiard-room as well. Lord Byron, who lived with his mother during his school and college days in Burgage Manor House, described the place as being very pleasant and possessing “a very genteel society.”

At the accession of Queen Victoria the Chapter still continued, but the end was near. In 1835 a Royal Commission was appointed to look into the affairs of the church, for[266] there was a general demand that the whole body ecclesiastical needed rousing to life. Reform was active in other branches of public life, and it was not possible, nor indeed desirable, that the church should go on in her old way and not stir herself to meet the changing needs of the ever-moving life around her. It was felt that there was a great waste of time and money, and especially was this the case among cathedral and collegiate bodies. The Chapter of Southwell did not escape the keen scrutiny that was fixed on all such bodies; it was not any more effete or lazy than other capitular bodies, and it was by no means as wealthy as some Chapters were at that time, but there seemed little need for it, and it appeared to fulfil no useful purpose in the Church at large, for Southwell was not a cathedral city nor was it the centre of a large population, and as there was nothing for its canons, as such, to do, it was thought that its revenues ought to be diverted into some more useful channel. We need here only mention the recommendations of the Commissioners so far as they affected Southwell. In 1837 Nottinghamshire, except the Peculiar of the Chapter of Southwell, was transferred from the diocese of York to that of Lincoln. For three years longer the Chapter was suffered to remain, but “in 1840 a clause or two in a bill (3 and 4 Vict. c. 113), supplemented the next year by a special Act (4 and 5 Vict. c. 30), destroyed the Chapter, after making allowance for vested interests, as a useless waste of ecclesiastical revenues. The canonries as vacancies occurred were not filled up, the minor canons were to be reduced to two (eventually to none at all), and the property was to go to the Ecclesiastical Commissioners to help in founding Ripon and Manchester, although these two dioceses were quite wealthy enough to endow their own bishoprics.”[79] It is interesting to remember that Mr. Gladstone, then the young Tory member of Parliament for Newark (in which division Southwell lay), spoke very[267] strongly in the House against the destruction of the Chapter.

In time Southwell became a simple rectory, with the Residence House as the official residence of the incumbent. The Commissioners pay the rector and two assistant curates, the organist, choir, and other officials of the church, and keep the fabric in repair.

The Chapter was not dissolved at once, the canons being allowed to keep their stalls and their incomes as long as they lived, but they were to have no successors; one of their number was to be appointed by themselves as perpetual residentiary. The Chapter thus died a lingering death. The policy which destroyed it was short-sighted, for it was evident that Nottinghamshire could not long remain in the diocese of Lincoln, for it was a district with a rapidly increasing population owing to the development of the coal trade. Indeed, the last prebendary of the old foundation was not dead before a project was on foot to make Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire a separate diocese in themselves. And that same last prebendary had scarcely been in his grave ten years when this project was carried out—the new see being constituted in 1884. But nothing had been done to stop the transference of the patronage of the old Chapter to the Bishops of Ripon and Manchester, to whom it was allotted by the Act of 1840. The last prebendary, the Rev. T. H. Shepherd, had exercised all the patronage until his death in 1873, and then each living as it became vacant went in turn to the Bishops of Ripon and Manchester. It was in vain that the first Bishop of Southwell, Dr. Ridding, tried to secure this patronage, which consists chiefly of livings just round Southwell.

It was principally due to Bishop Wordsworth, of Lincoln, that Southwell Minster was chosen as the cathedral of the new diocese, and he was also one of the largest subscribers to the funds needed to found the new bishopric, parting even with some of his official income. The Minster was a building worthy of the honour, and though by the[268] foolishness and short-sighted policy of the previous generation the bishop found no Chapter at his cathedral church, yet this church possessed the advantage and privilege of two choral services daily, of the kind that rightly are expected to be found in cathedral churches, for the Commissioners had not discontinued the revenues which supported the choral services, which had thus been sung daily in the church from time immemorial under the regime or the old College of Canons. It was left to the present bishop of Southwell to make the Palace, which the archbishop never used after the Great Rebellion, owing to its ruinous condition, once more the home of a bishop, and a place of generous hospitality to all who are concerned in the affairs of the Church.

There is now a chapter of twenty-four honorary canons, of which body there is nothing to say except that perhaps its members are more honorary than is usually the case; sixteen of them have taken the names of the old prebends for their stalls, and the other eight are called after places in the diocese. It seems a pity, perhaps, that the old names have been taken, for there is really no connection whatever between the old body and the new.

The little town does not grow very fast, but it is in no sense old-fashioned, the advent twenty years ago of a lace factory giving the place a modern appearance and helping to keep it up to date. There is also a silk mill and a flour mill and large nursery gardens to give employment to the people.

It is impossible to close this chapter without one word of regret that Southwell, and indeed all Nottinghamshire, remain divorced from the ancient ties with the archbishopric of York. When the present archbishop visited Southwell, in June 1909, on the occasion of the commemoration of the 800th anniversary of the building of the nave, he expressed the same regret; for, as he said, in the very place where his long line of predecessors had worshipped and ruled and dwelt, he was himself only present by the sufferance,[269] willingly granted, it was true, of his brother of Canterbury. He hoped that some day he would come again in his own right and not as a stranger, but as a metropolitan visiting one of the dioceses which formed part of the province over which he ruled. It is to be hoped that when Nottinghamshire is made into a separate diocese, as the needs of the Church will soon demand, that it will be restored to its old province of York and once more acknowledge the overlordship of the archbishop of the northern see.

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## NOTTINGHAMSHIRE SPIRES
By Harry Gill

“And O, ye swelling hills and spacious plains!
Besprent from shore to shore with steeple towers,
And spires whose silent finger points to heaven;”
—Wordsworth.

The word steeple is generally applied to a lofty tower intended to contain a peal of bells, and especially to a tower surmounted by a spire.

The origin of the word spire is obscure; presumably it is a survival of the Anglo-Saxon word “spir,” a spike or stalk, and it is now used to denote the upper portion of a steeple when it shoots up to a point.

It would be presumption to claim any special distinction for the spires of Nottinghamshire. They are not to be compared in size or grandeur with those of the neighbouring county of Lincoln, or with the beautiful spires to be found in the Nene valley, where the “tower roof” is said to have originated. Still they are not devoid of interest, and one example (Newark) is held to be one of the finest spires in the kingdom, while in no other district of equal area can the development from one type to another be traced more easily than in the hundred of Rushcliffe, in the south of the county.

The existence of a spire pre-supposes two important conditions: (1) A well-trained band of masons; (2) a local supply of suitable stone; for in the Middle Ages the architecture of a district was influenced greatly by its geology; and, at any rate while the art of spire-building was in its infancy, we may almost add that a third condition was[271] essential—the existence of a tower large enough and strong enough to support a superimposed spire, for in many of the early examples the tower is much older than the spire.

If we take a map of the county and place a mark wherever a steeple was built, we shall see how sporadic the art of spire-building was. Where stone of a suitable kind was to be obtained, there we shall find spires; an extensive cluster in the south, with a trail northward along the outcrop of the Keuper marl; a group of five spires in the magnesian limestone district around Mansfield; isolated examples along the banks of the Trent and Soar, where river-borne stone could be obtained; while the hundred of Bassetlaw, comprising large tracts of flat marshy land in the north of the county, may fairly be said to have been spireless, for only two medieval spires stand to the north of Tuxford, and both of these belong to a late period of architecture.

The blue lias limestone of the county, sometimes used for rubble walling in towers, was quite unsuitable for spire-building, and therefore the earliest spires are to be found on the skerry belt, wherever “water-stones” of good quality could be obtained; Tuxford, Maplebeck and Gedling were the principal quarries, while fairly good stone was obtained from the bank in the vicinity of Bunny and Gotham.

As facilities for transport increased, we find that the millstone grit from Castle Donnington and south Derbyshire was used in the southern portion of the county, and Lincolnshire oolite in the eastern portion. The tradition of river-borne stone having been used still lingers in Trentside villages; and even as late as 1742 one of our local artists shows the method of haulage then in vogue, where five men are seen on the towing-path, harnessed to a small boat.[80][272] (Horse haulage was not sanctioned by Act of Parliament until the middle of the eighteenth century.)

Fig. 1.

It is difficult to determine when spire-building first started in this country, for lightning, storm, and fire have destroyed every trace of the timber and shingle spires which prevailed before stone was adopted as the more suitable material.[81]

The origin of the spire grew out of the necessity for[273] roofing the tower in some form. The simplest and most natural kinds of roof were the “pyramid” and “saddle-back.” The early Saxon churches, especially in districts exposed to the attacks of the Danes, each had a strong tower for defensive purposes, and this was invariably crowned with a pyramid. This type of tower roof was continued during the Norman period. The ancient towers at Halam, Flintham, and Fledborough still retain the original form of pyramidal roof, although in each instance they are modern restorations; and this applies also to the western towers at Southwell Minster. The ivy-mantled tower at Walesby is the only ancient tower in the county with a saddle-back roof; but this, again, is not the original work. Sometimes the pyramidal roof was set diagonally, thus forming a four-sided gable spire. We have only one example of this type remaining in England, at Sompting in Sussex, although it is still quite common in the Rhenish provinces.

Fig. 2.

As time went on, the churches were gradually enlarged to meet increasing needs; chancels were extended, aisles were thrown out necessitating the introduction of clerestories, and thus the tower, once the dominant feature, was dwarfed and made to look quite inadequate. It was natural, therefore, that the tower should be raised, when it not infrequently happened that the old roof was discarded, and a new type of “tower-roof,” a tall, tapering spire, was erected in its place, not only to keep out the weather, but designed as an ornamental feature to give dignity and[274] importance to the whole fabric. At Bradmore, for instance, where only the steeple remains,[82] and that in a ruinous condition, the building periods are quite clearly marked. The lower stage of the tower, built of local blue lias limestone with skerry dressings, is the original steeple; this was raised by the addition of another stage, of a superior kind of workmanship, built of cleansed ashlar in large and regular courses of millstone grit, and this stage was eventually finished with a parapet surmounted by a plain octagonal spire of fourteenth century type.

Fig. 3.

Fig. 4.

The stone spire first made its appearance late in the twelfth century, and became fully developed by the end of the fourteenth century. At first it took the same form as the discarded timber structures;[83] a stone corbel-table took the place of the dripping eaves, and from this rose a plain octagonal pyramid, the oblique faces being brought out to the square at the base with a plain splay. There is only one example of this non-lithic form of spire in Nottinghamshire—that at Gotham. To facilitate comparison, I have made a sketch of it side by side with a typical spire of timber and shingle. An Early English tower, 18 feet[275] square, in three diminishing stages, without buttresses of any kind, stands at the west end of the nave. The walls are 3½ feet thick, finished with a corbel-table, from which a spire springs without the intervention of parapet or pinnacles. The spire is square on plan to begin with, but quickly assumes an octagonal form, the oblique faces being brought out with a plain splay above the squinches, which consist of well-formed pointed arches of one order. There are two tiers of lucarnes or spire lights in each cardinal face, with[276] an orb and weather-cock as a finial at the summit. About twelve years ago the masonry was repaired and pointed, the upper portion of the spire, from just above the splays to the summit, being taken down and rebuilt in its original form. A peculiarity of this spire is that the stonework is left rough and irregular within, probably due in part to the fact that the local skerry or waterstone, of which the whole steeple is built, is very tough and difficult to work, and in part to the inexperience of the early builders. Speaking generally, spire walls are as truly worked within as without, and as the skill of the masons increased, the thickness of the masonry was reduced on account of the weight, until the utmost limit was reached. The beautiful spire at Louth (Lincs.), which rises to a height of 294 feet from the ground, is only 10 inches thick in the lower portion and 5 inches thick in the upper portion.

Kirkby-in-Ashfield has a spire similar to the one at Gotham, but it is modern, having been entirely rebuilt fifty years ago.

All through the thirteenth century and well on into the fourteenth century the broach spire was common. Instead of a splay, the angle between the square of the tower and the octagon of the spire was covered by a hood in shape a half-pyramid, now popularly called a broach, although originally that term was applied to the whole spire, and not to a part of it only. Whereas the earlier spires exhibited the constructive principles of the carpenter, this was essentially the mason’s method of covering the squinches; and so characteristic of masoncraft is it that to this day, whenever the broach form is used to stop a plain chamfer, either in woodwork or stonework, it is always called a “mason stop.”

Burton Joyce.

Normanton-on-Soar.

Wollaton.

Edwinstowe.

From photographs by Mr. H. Gill.

One of the finest specimens of a broach spire in the county is at Normanton-on-Soar. It has a bold corbel-table in place of the plain dripping eaves, carved knots at the apices of the broaches, two tiers of lucarnes, and a distinct, though not too pronounced, entasis—all characteristic of the thirteenth century type. The tower belongs [277]to the Early English period, and is built of rubble (blue lias limestone), with dressings of local skerry. The spire also is built of local skerry, but it is a later addition. It rises direct from the corbel-table, and assumes a graceful outline as it soars above the crossing of what once was a fine cruciform church, now, alas, despoiled of some of its original character, but still forming a very pleasing picture, especially when viewed from the opposite bank of the river Soar.

NORMANTON =ON= SOAR

Fig. 5.

At Ratcliffe-on-Soar a further development in the evolution of spire design may be seen. An Early English tower (c. 1200) was surmounted a century later by a broach spire of similar construction and material to the one at[278] Normanton-on-Soar, but with this difference, that here an attempt was made to overcome that sense of bareness and weakness which is so apparent in an ordinary broach spire. This was accomplished by carrying up each angle of the tower above the springing of the broaches, so as to form a base for an octagonal pinnacle; and it is interesting to notice that each pinnacle is a miniature of the spire which rises in the midst.

This innovation was intended not only to give weight and strength at the angles, but to overcome the abrupt appearance caused by the change from the square form of the tower to the octagonal form of the spire, and it is an interesting example in the transition from the “pathless” spire to the fully developed type having a pathway all round, with parapets between the pinnacles to mask the junction of the spire and tower.

Fig. 6.—Ratcliffe-on-Soar.

The three spires—Gotham, Normanton-on-Soar, and Ratcliffe-on-Soar—standing in close proximity to each other, thus form an interesting study in the development of spire design.

Before proceeding to the consideration of spires with parapets, it may be well to give a brief enumeration of the remaining broach spires in the county.

Willoughby-on-the-Wolds.—Similar in all respects to Normanton-on-Soar. Recently restored.

Burton Joyce, (c. 1300) is a typical illustration of a broach spire. The tower, 17 feet square, well buttressed in the lower stage, stands in the usual position at the west end of the nave, surmounted by a spire of good proportions with well-designed dormers on each cardinal face just above[279] the dripping eaves, and lucarnes near the summit. Each angle of the spire was emphasised just above the broaches by a boldly carved knot of foliage—the forerunner of the crockets of a later style—but these are now damaged and worn, and the spire has in consequence lost much of its beauty. It nevertheless stands as a pleasing example of a steeple suitable for a village church. The building material was obtained from the quarries at Gedling, close by.

Maplebeck.—A very good bed of skerry was quarried here. It is not surprising, therefore, to find that the church has a spire. This is similar to the one at Burton Joyce.

Fig. 7.

Mansfield Woodhouse.—This steeple was built to replace a timber spire which[280] was burnt down in 1304. A curious effect is produced by a cluster of unpierced gablets which form a corona near the summit of the spire. The dormers, which stand out boldly from the dripping eaves on each cardinal face of the spire, are well designed and characteristic of the period.

Holme (Newark) has a small, stumpy steeple, built of Lincolnshire oolite, in the fifteenth century, with broaches and spire lights after the manner of an earlier period.

Edwinstowe.—This steeple, which forms a conspicuous landmark for miles around, has been the subject of much controversy regarding its design and its antiquity. Obviously, to make a good polygonal spire, the tower top from which it springs should be four-square; but in this instance, as in many others where the spire has been built upon a tower which was not originally intended to receive it, the width of the tower from east to west is greater than the breadth from north to south, and consequently the spire becomes an irregular polygon. The spire at Edwinstowe was built in the latter half of the fifteenth century upon a tower of twelfth or very early thirteenth century work. At first sight the spire appears to belong to the same period as the tower; the angle shafts in the peculiar arrangement of square pinnacles which are set upon the broaches may easily be mistaken for Early English work, but a more careful scrutiny reveals the fact that the merlons in the quasi-parapets have the mouldings mitred and returned on the sides as well as on the top—a sure indication of a later date. There are dormers at the springing to correspond with the pinnacles, the upper portion of the spire being quite plain, excepting that each cardinal face is pierced with a quatrefoil near the summit—a further indication of late date. Judging by the character of the work, I think it is probable that the spire was commenced after the completion of the north aisle, late in the fifteenth century, but it did not survive completion long, for in 1679 the parishioners sent a petition to King Charles II. asking for “£200 or 200 decayed oaks which are unfit for ship timber,” from the[281] royal forest of Sherwood towards the cost (£300) of repairing “the Body of the Church,” which was “extremely shaken and in a very ruinous condition,” occasioned by the fall of the steeple, which about seven years ago “was beaten down by thunder.” The upper portion of the steeple at any rate, probably from the pinnacles upward, thus appears to be seventeenth century work. The blind arcades in the upper stage of the tower are the original belfry windows, which were built up when the spire was added. The oak beams of the old tower roof are still in position, and appear to have been utilised for hoisting up materials. The structural expedient for spanning the corners of the tower to suit the shape of the spire, and known as “squinches,” consist of concentric pointed arches in two orders, with a corbel stone and lintel in addition. All the masonry, both inside and outside the spire, is magnesian limestone most carefully worked. A very tall lancet window in the west face of the lowest stage of the tower is probably unique in that it is divided almost equally in height by a transom. The spire was struck by lightning forty years ago, which once more necessitated the rebuilding of the top portion.

Fig. 8.

SQUINCHES

EDWINSTOWE

Misterton.—This steeple is sometimes described as belonging to the Early English period, but the statement is incorrect, as the spire has no claim to antiquity. The porch at the extreme west end of the south aisle gives entrance to[282] the church through the tower—a very unusual arrangement. The tower and other parts of the church are built of fine grained magnesian limestone from the Roche Abbey district. The lower part of the tower formed the steeple to an earlier church. It was raised in the Decorated period to a high tower with parapet and pinnacles. The upper portion of the tower was damaged by lightning, and when it was rebuilt (1847–48) a broach spire of inelegant proportions was added. The ancient appearance of this spire is due to the fact that it is built of brown Yorkshire stone, in contrast with the white Roche Abbey stone used in the construction of the tower.

Gedling.—This steeple is one of the earliest examples we have of a tower and spire of the same date. It was built about 1320, and although it now has battlements and a pathway all round, I think it should be classed with the broach spires. It is probably unique by reason of the remarkable entasis, which is not an “almost imperceptible swelling,” as the dictionaries have it, but a swelling so pronounced as to be almost a distortion. The builders of old understood the value of an entasis for correcting optical illusion, and either made the sloping sides of their spires slightly convex or, at a later time, produced the same effect by running crockets up the angles and making them larger, or of greater projection, in the centre and diminishing them as they neared the base and the summit (as at Louth); but here we have a divergence from the straight line of 24 inches, and what is more remarkable still, the cardinal faces of the tower buttresses have also a similar curve. This is not due to settlement or defective building, for the whole structure stands as true and firm to-day as it did nearly 600 years ago.

Gedling.

West Retford.

Fig. 9.—Gedling.

In design and workmanship Gedling differs from any other church in the county, and I can only suggest that it is the work, not of local masons, but of craftsmen from some other part of the country, probably the Nene valley. The whole of the stone was obtained from the local [283]quarry, which lies about three-quarters of a mile to the north of the church—now a tree-grown hollow on the western side of the lane leading up to Mapperley Plains. The stone, which is very tough, has been used in blocks of enormous size. The tower, 24 feet square, stands to the north-west of the church, and is only engaged in part with the north aisle. This unusual position, which has the advantage of enabling the tower to be well seen to its full height, is due to the fact that the road passes close to the south-west angle of the church in an oblique line and trends away to the north-west. The walls of the tower, 5 feet thick, are carried up in three stages to a height of 90 feet and heavily buttressed. A newel staircase, 2 feet 4 inches wide, occupies the north-west angle. It is worthy of note that this staircase stops at an internal platform before the leads are reached, and gives access to the bells only. To reach the pathway, it is necessary to cross the bell frames and pass through a small doorway on the north side. This fact alone is not conclusive, but it should be further noticed[284] that the parapet is not continuous, as we should expect if it was coeval with the tower, but embattled; the merlons are low and thin, the pathway very narrow, and the appearance altogether is very unusual and suggestive of the work of a later period. A careful examination of the work at the base of the spire, which rises to a height of 180 feet from the ground, leads me to think that this steeple was originally a pathless one, and that the cardinal faces sprang from the top of a corbel table; but for some reason—perhaps for purposes of observation or to facilitate repairs—the lower part of the broaches and the sloping faces were afterwards cut away and parapets introduced. A horizontal moulding runs round the spire 8½ feet above the leads. The workmanship below this moulding is inferior, and the angles of the spire, which are beautifully moulded, do not “line” with the work above, in some cases by inches, which proves clearly to my mind that an alteration of some kind has taken place since the spire was built. There are no pinnacles to emphasise the corners, although the appearance of the steeple would be greatly improved by them. Tradition says that pinnacles were once in evidence, but they could only have been small and insignificant, judging by the smallness of the stools. There are canopied niches at the apices of the broaches, each designed to contain a sculptured figure in the attitude of prayer. The north-east niche is now tenantless. The north-west figure is worn beyond recognition; that on the south-west represents a lady, and that on the south-east a warrior. In consequence of exposure to the weather for 600 years, nearly every trace that might lead to the identification of these figures has been obliterated. It is still possible, however, to discern indications of chain mail on the armour of the warrior, and this is quite in harmony with the suggested date of erection.

NEWARK.    BINGHAM.

Spire-building reached its highest perfection in this county in the middle of the fourteenth century, when the steeple of the parish church at Newark was completed (c. 1356). The lower portion of the tower was built about [285]1230, but it was left unfinished until a century later, when a celebrated school of masons, who had done much good work in the neighbourhood, after completing the church at Grantham, came to Newark and carried the tower up to its full height, enriched with niches and sculptures and crowned with a lofty spire having moulded angles, four tiers of spire lights, slender broaches with carved knots at the apices, and a continuous perforated parapet between lofty angle pinnacles, which are pierced to allow for a pathway all round the base of the spire. Rickman says: “This spire deserves peculiar attention.... On the whole, perhaps, there are no specimens superior in composition and execution, and few equal.” It is built of Lincolnshire oolite, and stands engaged at the west end of the church, which comes close up to the pavement and can best be seen in its full height as it closes the vista down one of the narrow streets of the town. But whether viewed from this point or from the market-place, or from the surrounding fields and lanes, it cannot fail to charm the beholder by its gracefulness and beauty.

Bingham.—Although this steeple is not so graceful as the one at Newark, it impresses by its solidity and strength, and is worthy of very careful study. It stands at the west end of the church, and consists of an Early English tower, having walls 5½ feet thick, chiefly built of local skerry, surmounted by a decorated broach spire of pleasing outline, having a pronounced entasis and three tiers of spire lights. The upper stage of the tower is pierced on each face with two two-light windows, having deeply recessed mouldings, arched heads, and finished with a corbel table, constructed in such a way as to suggest that a perforated parapet (probably similar to those at Newark and Thoroton) was anticipated, although it was never put on. The corbel table consists of masks with ball-flower ornaments, and carved foliage between them. The ball-flower predominates, and it is interesting to notice the irregularity in the width of the spaces between the corbels; in most cases[286] two flowers suffice, while in others three are barely sufficient. Two of the pinnacles are mutilated sculptures of bishops in eucharistic vestments; they stand out conspicuously against the sky at the north-west and south-west angles of the massive tower. It is probable that in their original state the pinnacles were intended to represent the four Evangelists, but those at the north-east and south-east have been replaced by finials of Decorated types of foliage. The lancet window in the buttress on the western face of the tower is a very effective feature when seen through the tower arch from within, being recessed with splays more than 8 feet deep.[84]

Whatton-in-the-Vale.—This steeple differs from its neighbour at Bingham, in that it stands above the crossing of a cruciform church.[85] In all other respects there is a great similarity. It was rebuilt in 1870–71, as nearly as possible on the original lines, and with the original material. The foundation is Norman work; the tower Early English, with plain parapet and pinnacles; the spire is Decorated, but obviously it is not high enough to be quite effective, in comparison with the broad tower on which it stands.

Thoroton.—This church was struck by lightning on 27th April 1868, and the tower and spire was thoroughly restored the same year. The tower consists of three stages, and is finished with a continuous parapet of open quatrefoils, supported on a bold corbel table. The faces on the corbels are all awry, as though they were distorted with pain. This has led to the facetious remark that the figures represent the Ryemouth family, but I think it is more probable that, if any meaning were intended, they are a memento of the Black Death, which had decimated the county only a short time before this steeple was built.[287] Within the parapet a graceful spire rises, with three tiers of spire lights arranged in a pleasing manner on alternate faces of the spire. On the western side of the tower there is a fine ogee canopied niche, with fragmentary remains of the sculptures it once contained—a very unusual feature in this district. The steeple belongs to the Decorated period. It is built with rubble willing, of blue lias limestone, and dressings of skerry in the older parts, mixed with Lincolnshire oolite.

With the advent of the fifteenth century, the art of spire-building became more general. As the knowledge of constructive principles increased, spires were made lighter in appearance; the springing was hidden behind a parapet, lucarnes were sparingly used or omitted altogether, and thus was evolved the plain tapering spire of slender proportions so familiar in villages, not only in this county, but scattered all over the land, and apparently all built from one design.

Wollaton may be taken as an example of this type. The church is built with large blocks of sandstone of a rich yellow tint, quarried in the neighbouring parish of Trowell, the only place in the county where carboniferous limestone was obtained. The steeple is carried on arches on the north and south sides, though the reason for this is not now apparent. As the western face of the tower abuts upon the roadway, it is possible that the public footpath once went underneath the tower, or it may have been that the arches were made to admit of processions round the church without going outside the consecrated area. The steeple belongs to the late Decorated period. The tower is finished with an embattled parapet, which projects slightly beyond the wall line. The spire is slender, and springs well within the parapet, having only one tier of small spire lights, which scarcely break the sloping lines of the spire. Unlike all other spires in the county, with the exception of Keyworth and Car Colston, the finial in this case is a weather vane, and not the familiar weather-cock.

[288]

The following is a complete list of similar spires:—

Attenborough.—Early fifteenth century. Steeple built of millstone grit.

Barton.—Early fifteenth century. Steeple built of millstone grit.

Cotgrave.—Early fifteenth century. Plain octagonal spire without lucarnes, built of millstone grit.

East Leake.—Fifteenth century spire on Early English tower. Built of millstone grit.

Epperstone.—Fourteenth or early fifteenth century steeple, built of local waterstone. The top portion of the spire was renewed in 1820 with Mansfield stone.

Holme Pierrepont.—Fifteenth century. Built of Gedling stone.

Lowdham.—Late twelfth century tower, originally detached; fourteenth century spire.

Mansfield (St. Peter’s).—Norman tower (two stages). Belfry stage and parapets fourteenth century; spire later. Magnesian limestone.

Stapleford.—Tower, c. 1250. Parapets and spire fifteenth century. Local skerry.

Sutton-in-Ashfield.—Steeple commenced in 1390–91, completed 1399 by the donor, John de Sutton, Mayor and Member of Parliament for Lincoln. Local magnesian limestone.

Sutton Bonington (St. Michael’s).—Steeple fifteenth century. Castle Donnington stone.

Tuxford.—Early English tower in lower part, upper portion and spire c. 1357. Skerry.

Weston.—Repaired 1910.

Wysall.—The tower is built of local lias limestone, mixed with bands of skerry. The walls are nearly four feet thick, with buttresses at the angles. The battlements and spire are of cleansed ashlar. The spire, carried on corbelled squinches set low down in the tower, looks very weak and dilapidated, and this is accentuated by the[289] pierced spire lights fixed high up on the sloping sides, and by the battered weather-cock at the summit. There is no staircase, the belfry being reached by a climbing ladder fixed within the tower. The striving after plainness and lightness had reached its limit when this spire was built.

Nottingham (St. Peter’s, c. 1400) might well have been included in the foregoing list, if the spire, as it now stands, was in its original condition, but unfortunately it has been denuded of the crockets which were once a conspicuous feature. These crockets were cut off by a man named Wooton, of Kegworth, who was engaged to repair the spire in or about 1825.[86] The father of the man who committed this gross vandalism was not only a noted spire builder and repairer, but he was also a crank, for when he had finished his task of restoring the spire at Kegworth, “resting on his airy perch at the summit, he played some tunes on the French horn, while the villagers looked up in awe and listened to the music of the spheres.”

Bunny has a steeple similar to St. Peter’s at Nottingham, built of millstone grit with crockets at the angles. These crockets are too small to be really effective, and those near the top and on the exposed angles to the north and east have perished to a considerable extent.

Balderton.—The upper part of the tower and spire was added in the fourteenth or early fifteenth century. It is evident that the work here was influenced by the beautiful work at Claypole, just over the border, in Lincolnshire. The crockets on the spire give it quite a Lincolnshire appearance, while the tower is of the usual Nottinghamshire type, with embattled parapets and corner pinnacles.

West Retford.—This crocketed spire of beautiful design and proportions was built of skerry (locally called Tuxford stone) during the latter half of the fifteenth century. It[290] will be noticed that the upper part of the belfry stage assumes an octagonal form immediately above the louvres, the angle buttresses being carried up vertically so as to form pinnacles with gabled and crocketed heads. Behind each main pinnacle a small bar of stone is carried over in the form of a flying buttress until it reaches the face of the spire, whence it is again carried up vertically in the form of a slender buttress or inner pinnacle, and enriched with crockets. This treatment is very characteristic of the period, and although it produces a graceful effect it is quite useless from a constructional point of view, and indicates that the decline in Gothic architecture was at hand.

Scrooby.—A spire similar in outline and principle to that at West Retford, but without the crockets, was built at Scrooby of stone from Roche Abbey. These two spires form a class by themselves. They are the only medieval spires in the northern part of the county, and appear to have been built at the same period and by the same band of masons.

Thoroton.

Keyworth.

Car Colston.

Upton.

Keyworth.—A steeple unique in design and construction still remains to be noticed. It is a well-known fact that a steeple was sometimes used as a beacon for the guidance of travellers by land or sea. For instance, Boston “Stump” has long been a landmark for mariners on Boston Deeps and for travellers on the broad fens. Keyworth has a steeple traditionally said to have been used as a beacon to guide parishioners home over the trackless lands (enclosed since 1797). Standing on a crest of the Wolds, it is certainly a conspicuous object for miles around, and it may well have been used on occasion for the display of signals in time of national peril; but a careful examination has failed to disclose any trace of a beacon fire or light ever having been used, and probably the term “lantern” tower which is now generally applied to it is solely due to the peculiarity of the design. The tower was built at the west end of the church, the [291]walls on the north and south sides being carried on pointed arches. The subsequent extension of the north and south aisles so as to enclose the tower thus enabled the whole of the west end of the church to be used as a schoolroom, and it was so used until 1820. The tower is 17 feet square at the base, with flat buttresses at each corner, panelled and gabled in a manner quite unusual in this district. There are indications that the parapet was originally embattled, but the merlons and pinnacles were removed some time during the past century. Within the parapet rises a smaller tower 11 feet square, with a stone pathway all round it 2½ feet wide, composed of large “through” stones, laid across the top of the main walls. (No lead is used.) These “through” stones project over the walls, and are long enough to form a corbel table outside and an over-sailing course inside to carry the walls of the lantern. About six feet above the pathway the lantern takes an octagonal form, the squinches consisting of two plain over-sailing courses in each angle, covered with a stone which may originally have been a low broach, but it is now worn almost level by exposure to the weather. The octagonal lantern is finished with gargoyles and an embattled parapet, and surmounted by a short stone spire. Each cardinal face of the lantern is pierced with two louvred openings, 3 feet high by 9 inches wide in the octagonal part, and four openings 3 feet high by 11 inches wide in the lower part, the pathway round the spire being reached from the belfry through one of these on the north side. The openings are very unusual in character, being plain rectangles without mouldings or cusps, but as they occur just above the bells, and are louvred, they were undoubtedly intended to let out the sound. The walls are built of millstone grit from the Castle Donnington district, backed in with local rubble, blue lias limestone, skerry, and in some places with brick. It is difficult to determine the date of erection. The detail of the upper portion seems to indicate an earlier period than the lower portion, which obviously could not be the case, and[292] the whole fabric suggests a French origin. Probably 1400 is an approximate date.

Car Colston.—The lower stage of this tower was built in the Early English period with rubble walls of lias limestone and dressings of local skerry. In the fifteenth century it was raised to be a lofty tower with parapets and pinnacles, and surmounted by a low octagonal roof or spire of Ancaster stone of very unusual form, and unlike any other spire in the county.

Upton.—At Upton there is a fifteenth century tower with a cluster of eight pinnacles round the parapet, and a large crocketed pinnacle—an incipient spire—set in their midst on the crown of the stone barrel vault which forms the roof of the belfry. The effect of this is peculiar rather than graceful, and the method of construction is unsound in principle, for, as might have been expected, the great weight of the spirelet has caused the vaulting to spread and push the tower walls out of the perpendicular.

There is a diminutive steeple at Cossall of the ordinary fifteenth century type. This church was entirely rebuilt in 1842.

The spire at Scarrington was rebuilt and the tower restored in 1896. The description given by Sir Stephen R. Glynne in 1866 still applies: “The tower is Decorated, rather heavy, and has flat buttresses which may be Early English.... The belfry windows are large but mutilated. The parapet is plain, the spire octagonal without ribs, having two tiers of spire lights set in the same sides.”

Several ancient steeples have been entirely destroyed, and only records remain. The old church at Hoveringham had a parapeted spire. Radcliffe-on-Trent had a Decorated tower and a tall, graceful, crocketed spire. The crocketed spire of old St. Nicholas’ church, Nottingham, was destroyed during the Parliamentary wars. The original parish church at Flawford had a handsome spire steeple which was demolished in 1773. Ruddington church, which was once a chapel to Flawford, was rebuilt in 1887, the stones of the[293] old spire being re-used. Kingston-on-Soar had a small spire previous to rebuilding, when it was replaced with a square tower. The steeples at Carlton-on-Trent and Grove are modern erections.

### VANES.

“Lo, on the top of each aerial spire,
What seems a star by day, so high and bright,
It quivers from afar in golden light;
But ’tis a form of earth, though touched with fire
Celestial, raised in other days to tell
How, when they tired of prayer, apostles fell.”
—Lyra Apostolica.

The summit of the spire was generally finished with a vane of the familiar chanticleer form—emblem of vigilance, watchfulness, and prayer. In only three instances in the county has this custom been departed from. Wollaton, Car Colston, and Keyworth have weather vanes in the form of an arrow. The one at Keyworth has only quite recently supplanted the original weather-cock, which is still retained in the church. It was formed out of two sheets of copper cut to shape and riveted together. It is no unusual thing to find an inscription or date engraved on the brass or copper plates of which the vane is composed and the hollow body of the bird filled with corn.

Fig. 10.—Bradmore.

It may perhaps seem strange to mention botany and ornithology in connection with church steeples; yet strange as it may appear, some splendid botanical specimens have made the church steeple their home—not only mosses and lichens, but wild flowers in profusion. The rue fern flourishes on the steeple at Holme; a cluster of very fine harebells adorns the steeple at Gedling; the ivy-leaved toadflax,[294] wallflowers, polypody fern, and many other small specimens may be found growing on the sunny side of many an ancient steeple; while at Wysall large elderberry trees are actually growing all round the spire.

In addition to flocks of starlings, pigeons, jackdaws, swifts, and other familiar birds that live upon the church, a cormorant once chose to make its nest at the summit of Newark spire, and during the same summer (1893) a crow found a nesting-place in the iron corona at the top of a turret in Nottingham. At Upton a chamber in the upper part of the tower has been used as a dovecote. The ledges and nesting-holes all round the walls are still in perfect condition, and give a good idea of the interior of a medieval columbarium.

[295]

## THE LOW SIDE WINDOWS OF NOTTINGHAMSHIRE
By Harry Gill

The term “low side windows” is now generally used to denote the peculiar openings which are to be found in the walls of ancient churches, generally, but not always, in the chancel; sometimes on the north side, more frequently on the south side, and occasionally on both sides, commonly known by the name of “leper windows.”

The popular idea concerning them is that they were made to enable persons stricken with the dreadful disease of leprosy—painfully prevalent in England when these windows were first introduced—to attend the service of the Mass and to receive the solace of Holy Communion at the hands of the priest without entering the church. Apart from the fact that the leper was looked upon as a dead man and never allowed to mingle with his fellows, a very cursory examination of the openings will prove that they were utterly unsuited for such a purpose. The height above the ground in some cases, and the great thickness of the wall in almost all cases, would have made it very difficult for the priest to administer the sacrament in this way; nor would it be possible for any one standing outside the church to see through them to the altar, to the images on the rood-loft, or to any essential feature within the church. There is only one instance in the county (at Laxton) where the altar might possibly be seen through the opening. In this case the window is near the east end of the south wall of the chancel. The reason for this position is obvious. When[296] the chancel was rebuilt (c. 1400), aisles were thrown out on either side to form sepulchral chapels for the lords of Laxton: the south side was for the superior lords—the Everinghams, and the north side for the Lexingtons. These chapels extend to within 7½ feet of the extreme east end, and in the middle of this space the wall has been pierced by a small window 18 inches high, 3½ inches wide, which looks straight towards the end of the altar; but as the opening is rebated for a shutter and the sill is 5½ feet above the ground, it is not likely that it was intended for the view.

A systematic survey of all the low side windows in the county has led me to the conclusion that they were not all made for one and the same purpose, and in order to determine their use it will be necessary to notice their position and size, and especially the section of the jambs, which in some cases have a wide rebate which indicates that the openings were originally fitted with an oak shutter, while in other cases they were rebated for glass in the ordinary way; and further, the shuttered openings will be found to be plain rectangles, while the glazed openings are arched and cusped. The fact that the shuttered openings have all been “stoned up,” points to the fact that they were used in connection with some ceremony which went out of use at the Reformation; while the glazed openings were intended simply to give light, and therefore remain unaltered. It will be convenient to deal with them under two separate headings: (a) shuttered openings; (b) glazed openings.

Laxton.

Costock.

Haughton.

From photographs by Mr. H. Gill.

(a) Shuttered Openings.—The earliest examples I have noticed in the county belong to the thirteenth century. In some instances the string moulding beneath the window sills was “stepped” so as to allow the sill at the west end of the chancel to be brought down to a lower level; the lower portion of this elongated window was divided from the upper portion by a transom, thus forming a rectangular opening (Flintham). In other instances the string moulding and sill are carried through level and a small independent opening formed in the wall space immediately [297]below the window (Stanford-on-Soar). In either case the opening was fitted with a shutter made to open inwards and hung with iron bands and hooks. In many instances the hinge hooks and catches are still in situ, notably at Costock, where, until sixty years ago, the shutter was intact. It is certain that these shuttered openings were not introduced for the purpose of giving light; it is equally certain also that they were not intended either for lychnoscopes or hagioscopes, for it is impossible for the Easter sepulchre or the altar to be seen through any of them, except the one at Laxton before referred to. So far as I know, the only documentary evidence which throws any light on the question is contained in a letter written by Richard Bedyll to Thomas Cromwell in the reign of Henry VIII.: “and we think it best that the place, wher thes frires have been wont to hire uttward confessions of al commers at certen tymes of the yere, be walled up for ever.” This quotation may seem on the face of it to favour the confessional theory, but we must remember that it was specially written concerning a monastic church, and only bears upon the question, so far as parish churches are concerned, in that it tells of the way they had in those days of dealing with an object for which there was no further use; it was “walled up” and “that use foredoen for ever.”

An example of the openings to which this letter would apply may be seen in the Galilee porch at the west end of the large cruciform church at Melton Mowbray (Leicestershire), partly built (1300–1325) and controlled by the Cluniac monks attached to the great priory of Lewes, who had a cell here; while fourteen chantry priests were installed only two miles away at the rectory close by the leper hospital at Burton Lazars. With such a supply of priests at hand, it may well be that this porch, containing four shuttered openings, all conveniently placed as regards height and position, was used “for uttward confessions of al commers at certen tymes of the yere,” i.e. at Easter, Whitsuntide, Christmas, and during the patronal and dedication festivals.

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But these special openings bear no relation to, and must not be confused with, the openings in parish churches. If they were actually used as confessionals, they only prove that the medieval workman knew how to meet the necessities of a case in the most convenient way, and it would be a libel on his intelligence to suppose that the openings to be found in parish churches were the best means he could devise for communicating lepers or confessing penitents.

The fact that the shuttered openings were all built up with stone, proves that they were used for some purpose that was discontinued when the Reformation was completed; not confession, for that did not cease at once, but something in connection with the office of the Mass.

If we look through the inventories of church goods made in the reign of Edward VI. (1552), we shall find in almost every case an account of bells that were used for various purposes.

Hucknall—It. ij hand bells, j sacring bell.
Itm in the stepell, iij small bells.
Bingham—It. iiij belles and ij hande belles.
Whatton in the Vale—Itm iiij belles in ye styple.
Itm ij hand belles.
Itm one lytle saunce bell.

Sometimes the position of the bell is given:—“j little bell in the churche called the Saints bell, the sacringe bell in the hie chancell.”

Regarding the use of these bells, the “instructions” issued by the bishops are very precise:—

“At the Elevation of the Eucharist, when it is lifted up, let the little bell first be rung.”—Bishop of Lichfield, 1237; Bishop of Worcester, 1240.

“The parishioners shall not irreverently incline at the Elevation of the Body of Christ, but adore with all devotion and reverence; wherefore let them be first warned by ringing the little bell, and at the Elevation let the great bell be thrice knolled.”—Bishop of Exeter, 1280–1292.

I am disposed to think that all the shuttered openings in parish churches were made for the purpose of ringing the[299] sacring bell, and I would like to draw attention at this point to two facts which help to confirm this opinion:—

(1) Corroboration of dates.

(a) At a time when the Church, as a result of the Pope’s interdict (1208–1214), lay dormant, neglected, and moribund, the Friars came (1222–1224), and by their zeal and influence kindled a revival which lasted until the Black Death (1349) decimated their ranks, when the tone of the clergy began to decline.    1222–1349

(b) All the shuttered openings in the county were made between    1225–1350

(c) The instructions as to ringing the sacring bell in the chancel were all issued between    1224–1300

(2) A peculiar example.

Beneath the sill of a large two-light fourteenth century window in the chancel at Dersingham, Norfolk, there is a panel, 24 inches by 22 inches, and 43 inches from floor to sill, pierced with four quatrefoils. It certainly was never intended for light; nothing can be viewed through it, and the detail is much too intricate for any substance to be passed through the apertures. Any one familiar with the “sound holes” which are so characteristic of East Anglian belfries, cannot fail to be struck with the similarity between them and the little panel in question, which I suggest is also a “sound hole,” intended to indicate the place of the tinkling bell in the “hie chancell,” just as the larger panels indicate the place of the tolling bell in the high tower.

The wide internal splays to all the shuttered openings now under consideration, is evidence that the intention was for sound to go out rather than to enable any one to look in, either to watch the lights upon the altar (the church doors were always open save during divine service), or for any other purpose; nor can they have been for the purpose[300] of showing a light to scare evil spirits away, for the medieval mind always imagined that evil spirits came out of the north, and by far the larger portion of the openings are on the south side; while the dial markings, so frequently found on the jamb between the priest’s door and the low side window, and said to be connected with it, will prove upon examination to be more recent in date, and to be dial markings and nothing else. I have found them on the south side of all ancient churches that are built of soft grained stone, but seldom on the harder and coarser grit stones.

It may fairly be asked why, if the purpose of these openings was to enable the sacring bell to be rung effectively, are they not to be found in every ancient chancel. The church at Ratcliffe-on-Soar, for instance, has no low side window, while the church at Flintham, only a little earlier in date, has one on either side of the chancel. The explanation is that the purpose could be achieved in various ways. Early in the fourteenth century when screen building set in vigorously, the rood-loft offered a convenient alternative position for a ringer with a little hand bell.[87] A bell cote or turret at the junction of the roofs of the nave and chancel, or near the porch, a bracket or beam projecting from the wall of the tower on which a bell was suspended, were all expedients variously adopted, the only essential being that the ringer, wherever he was stationed, should have an uninterrupted view of the high altar; and I think it will be found that not all the hagioscopes were made to allow an exalted personage to view the elevation of the host without the necessity of leaving his private pew, but in most cases they were made to enable the bell-ringer to see the altar and give the signal. Wherever a low side window and a bell cote are found in the same church, it will invariably be discovered that the bell cote is a later addition, and superseded the window.

[301]

Shuttered openings may be seen at the following churches:—

| Barnby-in-the-Willows | c. 1300 | Both sides.
(a) | Basford | 13th cent. | S.W.
| Burton Joyce | 14th cent. | S.W.
| South Collingham. | 14th cent. | S.W.
| Costock | 14th cent. | S.W.
| Flintham | 13th cent. | Both sides.
| Gedling | 13th cent. | S.W.
(a) | Halam | 14th cent. | N.W.
| Haughton Chapel | ruined | S.W.
| Keyworth | 13th cent. | S.W.
| Laxton | 14th cent. | S.E.
| Low Marnham | 14th cent. | S.W.
| Normanton-on-Soar | 13th cent. | S.W.
(a) | Nuthall | 14th cent. | S.W.
| Orston | 13th cent. | S.W.
| Stanford-on-Soar | 14th cent. | S.W.
| Trowell | 13th cent. | N.W.
(a) | These are built up, thus making classification somewhat uncertain.

(b) Glazed Openings.—Early in the fourteenth century the screen developed into an imposing and extensive structure. Surmounting it were the images of Christ, Mary the Mother, and John. A loft about five feet wide was necessary to give access to the lamps which were kept burning before the images, to the row of lights placed along the top of the hand-rail at the great festivals, and for the purpose of veiling the images during Lent. The projection of the loft generally formed a canopy for the two altars which stood on the west side of the screen, but there is evidence that in some instances the projection was eastwards, i.e. into the chancel, thus necessitating a special arrangement of the fenestration, in order to get light either for general purposes, or to enable the priest to read his hours at the desk, which otherwise would be dark when thus placed under the soffit of the loft.[88]

[302]

With these facts in mind, let us examine the work at Car Colston, one of a series of beautiful churches built by a peripatetic band of masons known as the York School, and the only chancel in Nottinghamshire built by them which contains a low side window. It is evident that the rood-loft in this case projected eastwards, for the eastern face of the chancel arch is quite plain, and the mouldings on the responds are not returned, but cut off square and flush with the walling. No trace of a staircase or door for entering the loft can be found. A comparison between the work here and the chancel at Arnold—built about thirty years earlier by the same school—where a stone newel staircase leading to the rood-loft is worked in the south pier of the chancel arch, well lighted by a small aperture in the angle, leads me to conclude that a similar arrangement was adopted here, but probably the stairs in this case were formed in wood instead of stone. It would therefore be necessary to get light at this point, and the skill of the builders is manifest in the introduction of this small but beautiful window of two lights, each 7½ inches wide and 36 inches high to the springing, and 6½ feet from ground to sill. It has a sloping sill to throw the light downwards, while the absence of a rear arch and the substitution of a flat soffit indicates that it came up quite close to the floor of the rood-loft. A quadrant splay to the westward distributed the light and gave access to the rood stairs, and there was a square reveal to the eastward, because the window was separated from the priest’s doorway by a jamb only 8½ inches wide.

Wherever the rood-loft projected far into the chancel, it was necessary to obtain light beneath it; and where the original fenestration did not admit of this, a small special window was introduced for the purpose. I think it will be found that in all cases where the jambs were not originally rebated for shutters, the low side window has been inserted after the introduction of the rood-loft for lighting purposes. During the first half of the thirteenth century the lighting[303] of churches received but little consideration. Narrow lancets with sills high above the floor were deemed sufficient, while the north wall was often built without any windows at all. When the friars came, they were supposed to know the service by heart, and manuscript sermons were unknown. But as time went on, the desire for more light was felt, and it was first met by setting the lancets in pairs, and later in triplets; and not unfrequently the small east window was taken out and fixed at the west end of the south wall of the chancel, and a new and larger east window provided (Sutton St. Ann’s). At Kneesall portions of the original lancets may still be seen in the south wall blocked up with masonry, and in their stead two beautiful three-light, square-headed windows were introduced when the chancel was extended eastwards in the fifteenth century; and a similar thing occurred at East Leake, where a portion of the lancets still remain, though now superseded by larger windows. At Burton Joyce, in addition to the shuttered opening in the chancel, there is a small lancet fixed low down in the centre of the north aisle wall. This does not command any essential feature within the church. The probability is that it was introduced to light the priest’s desk in a chantry chapel which occupied a large space on this side of the church, and contained the tombs of the dominant owners.

At a later date builders did not hesitate to insert large windows in the walls in place of the original lancets wherever light was needed for any special purpose, and in many instances the original shuttered openings were altered and converted into lights (Barnby-in-the-Willows). In some cases where chancels were entirely rebuilt, the S.W. window of the chancel was made with a low sill and a transom—an obvious development of the earlier shuttered window—but never intended for any other purpose than to give light, for both on the outside and inside the jambs are widely splayed and beautifully moulded (Wilford). In other cases the S.W. window has been kept low in[304] conformity with ancient custom, and also probably because the S.E. window has had to be kept high up to clear the sedilia (Plumtree).

Examples of windows for lighting purposes may be found at:—

Balderton | 15th cent. | insertion in 13th cent. | South side.
Barton-in-Fabis | 14th cent. |  | S.W.
Car Colston | 14th cent. |  | S.W.
Cropwell Bishop | 13th cent. |  | N.W.
East Bridgeford | 13th cent. |  | S.W.
East Leake | 13th cent. |  | S.W.
Kneesall | 15th cent. | insertion in 13th cent. | S.W.
Laneham | 15th cent. | insertion in 12th cent. | S.W.
Lowdham | 13th cent. |  | S.W.
Normanton-on-Trent | 14th cent. |  | S.W.
Oxton | Late insertion in 12th cent. work | S.W.
Plumtree | 15th cent. |  | S.W.
South Muskham | Late insertion in 13th cent. work | S.W.
Sutton Bonington St. Ann’s | 14th cent. |  | S.W.
Upton | 14th cent. |  | S.W.
West Leake | 14th cent. |  | S.W.
Wilford | 15th cent. |  | S.W.

Plumtree may be taken as a typical example of a dozen or more fifteenth century chancels having the sill of the S.W. window at a lower level than the others.

There are two examples in the county that call for special treatment, as they do not belong to either of the foregoing classes—Mansfield and Linby.

At Mansfield side chapels were added in the fifteenth century on either side of the chancel. Near to the east end of the wall on the south a narrow opening has been formed 4½ feet above the floor level, which has been described as a “leper window.” One side of this squint is formed with an ancient incised slab, and several stones with the Norman chevron moulding have been used. It does not appear ever to have been external, and in my opinion it was cut through the old wall after the chapel was built, in order to give a view between the two altars.

Car Colston.

Linby.

From photographs by Mr. H. Gill.

At Linby there is a small squint at the east side of the [305]doorway of the north porch which has given rise to much controversy. I am of opinion that it was made to enable the ringer in the belfry under the tower at the west end of the church to see to the Top Cross in the village street, which may have been used in the elaborate service of Palm Sunday, when, after the palm branches had been blessed and distributed, the priest bearing the Blessed Sacrament went out with his attendants and took up his station at the Palm Cross. Then the choir and people came out of the church in procession with their palms to meet him at the cross and accompanied him back to the church with the singing of “Hosannas” and other appropriate anthems, in memory of our Lord’s triumphal entry into Jerusalem. This porch is always said to have been built in 1548, but the style of architecture indicates an earlier date; and the shields on the gable and buttresses, Strelley, Hunt, and Savage, lead me to think that it is the work of the grand-daughter and heiress of Thomas Hunt (died in 1427, seized on a moiety of the manor of Linby), who was married first to John Strelley (died 1487), and the year afterwards to James Savage.

While making this survey, I took particular notice of the relative positions of the manor-house, parsonage, and village, in relation to the church, and also the direction and lie of the main roads; but I found that none of these had any effect upon the low side window. The date of erection and the internal arrangement of the church appear to have been the sole determining factors.

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## THE NOTTINGHAM MINT
By Frank E. Burton, F.R.N.S., J.P.

In contributing a paper upon the coins and tokens either relating to or struck in the city of Nottingham, or in the county of Nottingham, it is quite impossible for me to give a complete history or even a brief description of each coin or token, or to describe all the different dies from which they were struck in the space kindly allotted to me by the editor; but the illustrations taken from amongst those specimens in my possession should, I hope, give the reader a very good idea of what these coins and tokens are like, and although there are many varieties, these in most cases only differ in detail in wording and dates; in fact, generally some small alterations in the die.

The Nottingham Mint.—In Saxon and Norman times this mint must have been an important one, considering that we know of eleven kings who coined silver pennies here. No coins were struck above the value of one penny, and the coinage of the whole kingdom at this period practically consisted of silver pennies.

In 924 Edward the Elder captured the town from the Danes, and afterwards rebuilt it, but we do not know if he established a mint, as no coins of his are known to have been struck at Nottingham; but the mint was in operation in the reign of his successor, Athelstan, 925–940.

According to Domesday Book there were two moneyers in Nottingham in the days of Edward the Confessor, and they paid to the King the sum of forty shillings.

[307]

This amount had been increased to ten pounds by the Conqueror when Domesday Book was written, thus showing that the Nottingham Mint was then a royal one.

One pound sterling was understood to be a pound weight of silver coined into about 240 pennies. One penny would, in Saxon times, more than pay a workman for his day’s labour, so that ten pounds was a large sum of money in those days.

When we consider that the yield from this mint and these moneyers had increased from two pounds to ten pounds, I think we may rightly assume that they were looked upon as a considerable source of income by the Exchequer.

Accepting this and knowing that such a large number of varieties of coins were struck during the long period of about 230 years, in which this mint is known to have existed, it is rather strange that these early coins should be so seldom met with, and that some should be so excessively rare. I know of no coins struck in Nottingham by any king after the reign of Stephen.

The Newark Mint.—As far as is known, only one Saxon King is supposed to have struck money here, and only two Kings of later periods.

The first coin said to have been struck at Newark is that of King Edwy, 955–959. Although the British Museum describes it as Newark, Northamptonshire, there is little doubt that it was struck at Newark, Notts, as Newark, Notts, is the only Newark mentioned in Domesday Book.

The next two Kings who were supposed to have issued pennies were Henry I., 1100–1135, and Henry II., 1154–1189, and the place of minting Ne, short for Newark. It is questionable if any coins were struck at Newark in the reign of Henry I. It is probable that Henry I. granted a charter to the Bishop of Lincoln to coin money at Newark, as we know a charter to this effect was confirmed by Stephen, and coins of Stephen’s reign struck at Newark are known to exist.

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Henry II.—It is extremely doubtful if any coins of this reign were struck at Newark.

The Torksey Mint.—Ethelred II. (979–1016) is supposed to have struck money here, but opinions differ upon this question. Turc being short for Torksey, I am very much of opinion that these coins were struck at Torksey, for in Saxon times Torksey was probably the most important town between Nottingham and the Humber.

The Shelford Mint.—Earl Sitric, who was killed in the battle of Ashdown, A.D. 870, is understood to have struck coins here.

The first coin illustrated is that of Athelstan, 925–940. (No. 1.)

Obverse. | Edelnod on Snotenceham.
Reverse. | Edelnod on Snotenceham.

There is a coin of this reign in the British Museum with this same reading on the reverse, and on the obverse—Edelstan re Saxorum.

This coin is rare and extremely interesting. It does not bear the King’s name or any of his titles. Edelnod is the moneyer’s name, and he was the moneyer for Nottingham and also for Derby. It has the same reading on both sides, which is exceptional, and it is the first authenticated coin struck at Nottingham, and the only coin having the full reading Snotenceham; in all other Saxon or Norman coins struck in Nottingham by any other Kings, the name of the city is abbreviated.

This abbreviation of the name of the city often occurred in deeds of the period; in fact, we find it as late as in the charter granted by Henry II., 1155, to Nottingham, and where the name reads “Noting” and “Notingh.”

The “S” in the name of Nottingham was first dropped in the foundation charter of Lenton Priory about the year 1108.

Coins: Athelstan to Stephen.

From photographs by Mr. S. Barlow Vines.

Athelstan was the first monarch who paid any considerable attention to his coinage, and it is from his [309]laws that we first obtain any authentic information about the mints.

In 928 he held a grand synod, at which Wulfhelme, Archbishop of Canterbury, and all the great and powerful men of the kingdom were assembled. They decided that the whole coinage of the realm should be alike, and should bear the King’s portrait only, withdrawing the privilege from the bishops, abbots, barons, &c., of having their portraits struck upon the coins.

They also agreed that money should only be minted in a town, and decided that each burg was entitled to one moneyer, but certain places, on account of their importance, were entitled to two or more. Nottingham had two, London eight, Canterbury seven, Winchester six, and Rochester three. The penalty for establishing a private mint was death. Considering that in these days Nottingham was divided into two burgs, it is extremely probable that there were two mints—one for each burg.

The names of sixty different towns are known where money was minted.

From the fact that the coin illustrated has no portrait upon it, it leads one to suppose it was struck in the early part of Athelstan’s reign before the above law was enacted.

Ethelred II., 979–1016, issued money from Nottingham.

The sceptre first appeared on the coins of Ethelred in front of the profile, and this usage in subsequent reigns became general.

Canute, 1016–1035.

Obverse. | Cnut recx. Head crowned to left with sceptre.
Reverse. | Blamiam O Sno. (No. 2.)
Obverse. | Cnut recx a. Head to left having on a conical helmet, with sceptre.
Reverse. | Bruninc on Snoti. (No. 3.)
Obverse. | Cnut recx a. Head to left with sceptre; on head is a conical helmet.[310]
Reverse. | Blacaman on Sno. (No. 4.)

All the coins of this reign have the place of mintage and the moneyer’s name mentioned. The moneyer was responsible for the purity of the coins and their just weight, under various penalties—firstly, his hand was cut off, secondly, death; but in some few cases fines were imposed, as instanced in the case of Swein, who was a moneyer at Nottingham during the reign of Henry I. and Stephen. He was fined 100 shillings.

Numerous varieties of this coin are known, of which the three illustrated show two different dies and three different moneyers. It is not surprising to find coins of this monarch struck at Nottingham, as his coins bear the names of more places of mintage than those of any other reign.

Harold I., 1035–1040.

Two coins of this reign are known with the reading: Harold Rex and the Moneyer Blacaman or Sacgrim. The abbreviated name was Sn.

Hardicanute, 1040–1042.

Although this King is mostly styled Harthacnut or Harthecnut, Re or Rex, with the mint and moneyer always mentioned, in a known example struck at Nottingham the reading is “Hardacn” and on the reverse, “Plunod on Snot.”

Edward the Confessor, 1042–1066.

Obverse. | Edpard Re.
Reverse. | Blaceh on snotine. (No. 5.)

On all coins the Saxon “P” is used for “W” with one or two rare exceptions.

His coins are very varied. On some of them the head[311] is bearded. They vary exceedingly in size and weight, but all appear to have had the same nominal value.

Considering that eight different varieties of coins exist, which were struck at Nottingham, with the place of minting Sn., Sno., Snoti., Snotih, and Znot, it seems strange that they should be so seldom met with. During this reign halfpennies and farthings were first formed by cutting the pennies in two or four parts, but none are known relating to Nottingham.

Harold II., 1066.

Obverse. | Harold Rex angl. Bust to left with sceptre.
Reverse. | Forna on Snotn, and Pax between two beaded parallel lines (No. 6).

Several varieties of these coins are known, but they are uncommon.

William I., 1066–1087.

When the rule of England changed from Saxon to Norman there was no alteration in the style of the coinage, and silver pennies continued to be the sole current coin of the realm.

William I., 1066–1087.

William II., 1087–1100.

Obverse. | Pillelm Rex.
Reverse. | Iitsere on Snotin. (No. 7.)
Obverse. | Pillelm Rex.
Reverse. | Mana on Snoti. (No. 8.)

In the reigns of the two Williams the number of moneyers increased considerably and at least ten are known, and the following abbreviated readings of Nottingham are found on the coins:—Sn, Sno, Snot, Snoti, Snotin, Snotig, Snotine, Snotinc, Snotinge, Snotigne.

[312]

Many varieties of coins were struck, but it is somewhat difficult to assign the coins to their respective issuers.

Henry I., 1100–1135.

Obverse. | Henricus R. Front face with sceptre; at the side of the neck is a cross of four pellets.
Reverse. | Aldene on Sno. Quatrefoil inclosing cross of pellets with a star in the centre. Fleur de lis in the angles. (No. 9.)

Stephen, 1135–1154.

The coins of this reign are of very great interest, and more is known about them since two hoards were found—one in 1867 at the old Hall at Sheldon, near Bakewell, the other in 1880 in Rose Yard, Bridlesmith Gate, Nottingham; a large portion being of the reign of Stephen and of the Nottingham Mint, amongst them some few not previously known. During this reign money is supposed to have been much debased, but none of these debased specimens exist.

Obverse. | Stiefne.
Reverse. | Spein on Snot. (No. 10.)
Obverse. | Stiefne: Re.
Reverse. | Spein on Snot. (No. 11.)
Obverse. | Stiefne: Re.
Reverse. | Spein on Snot. (No. 12.)

Swein was the moneyer, the Saxon “P” being used for “W.”

It will be noticed that the obverse of each is defaced with a small cross over the King’s face.

In Nos. 11 and 12, which are from the Nottingham find, we have, in addition to the cross, a small pellet and a line cut in the die, and so almost obliterating the King’s head.

It is now a very generally accepted fact that the[313] partisans of Matilda, having no dies except Stephen’s, used his dies, but did not wish to acknowledge his title, and so cut a cross in the die to deface the King’s head.

Probably these coins were issued by William Peverel II. of Nottingham during Stephen’s captivity in 1141. Peverel, being Governor of Nottingham and holding the Castle, would no doubt have control of the mint during this troublous time. Examples exist with larger shaped crosses and different from the above.

Obverse. | Stiefner.
Reverse. | Spein on Snot. (No. 13.)
Obverse. | Stiefne: R.
Reverse. | Spein on Snot. (No. 14.)
Obverse. | Stiefne: Rex.
Reverse. | Spein on Snot. (No. 15.)
Obverse. | Stiefne.
Reverse. | Spein on Snotig. (No. 16.)

Nos. 13, 14, 15 are from the Nottingham find, and have very fine large profile busts, and are exceptionally fine specimens for coins of Stephen. In No. 16, though the lettering is somewhat worn, the portrait is good, but quite different from the others, it being struck in the early part of his reign. It has the rare name of the place of minting “Snotig.”

Other varieties exist struck at Nottingham, also cut halfpennies.

Newark Siege Pieces.—During the years 1645 and 1646, the Royalist party held Newark and set up a mint.

Many Royalist supporters gave their silver and silver gilt cups, flagons, dishes, and family plate for the Royalist cause; others sold their family plate for so much per ounce to be coined into money. This coining down of thousands of ounces of silver plate belonging to the nobility and gentry of the surrounding districts must have caused a barbarous[314] destruction of many ancient, rare, and valuable relics of the highest interest to the towns of Nottingham and Newark.

Extract from the Kings Proclamation at York.

“And such of our subjects as shall come to us—either to our said town of Nottingham or to any other place where we shall happen to encamp—and whosoever shall in this our danger and necessity supply us either by gift or loan of money or plate.”

From the circular letter of Loan which was sent about and delivered by Troopers:—

“... desire you forthwith to lend us the sum of Twenty Pounds or the value thereof in Plate, touched Plate at five shillings, untouched Plate at four shillings and fourpence per ounce ... which we promise to repay as soon as God shall enable us.”

Charles I. was quite an old and experienced hand at borrowing money as instanced in the private instructions sent to the Commissioners of Nottingham some years previous to the siege of Newark:—

“That in your treating with your neighbours, about this businesse, yee shew your own discretions and affections, by making choice of such to begin with, who are likely to give the best examples; and when yee have a competente number of hands to the roll or liste of the lenders, that yee shew the same to others as they come before yee, to lead them to lend in like manner.”

In the Memoirs of Hampden we read:—

“The Midland Counties of England, however, undertook with great alacrity to bear this charge. They voluntarily subscribed their money and their plate. The Cities of London and Westminster were forward and liberal in their contributions. The women brought in their rings and jewels; the goldsmiths and silversmiths their stock.”

In 1642 the King when at Nottingham, just about the breaking out of the Civil War, received as a loan from the Universities nearly all their plate, which was to be repaid at so much per ounce for white silver and so much extra for the gilt silver. Most of this silver was minted at York, but [315]some was paid out in its original form to be sold for the pay of the troops.

Newark Siege Pieces: Half-crowns and Shillings.

From photographs by Mr. S. Barlow Vines.

In 1644 Parliament ordered all the King’s plate to be melted down and coined, notwithstanding a remonstrance from the Lords alleging that the curious workmanship of these ancient pieces of silver made them worth more than the metal.

To such dire necessity were the Royalist party put for money, that even at Newark some “regal” service of plate was used. These pieces of money were roughly cut and curiously shaped. The city being besieged, there would no doubt be an urgent demand for money, and the Royalists, not having any dies or skilled workmen who could make them, they made the best they could; for even if a man could not cut the likeness of the King, he might not have much difficulty in cutting a crown, a few letters, and figures. They were all struck upon lozenge-shaped flans, which flans were cut direct from the silver plate.

The coins were of the value of 2s. 6d., 1s., 9d., and 6d., and must have been struck from various dies, as several varieties exist dated 1645/1646. Numerous specimens are found gilt, showing they must have been cut from services of gilt plate.

The general design of these coins is the same, namely:—

Obverse. | C.R. (Carolus Rex) with a crown between, with value expressed beneath in Roman numerals all within a single pearled border.
Reverse. | Obs. (Obsidium-Siege) Newark, with date beneath in Arabic figures.

The two half-crowns, Nos. 17 and 18, show differently designed crowns.

On No. 18 may be seen marks of the pattern of the cup or salver from which it was hastily cut.

The four shillings, numbered 19, 20, 21, and 22, show[316] four distinct crowns. On No. 19 a double pearled border may be traced.

On the reverse of No. 20, part of the Royal Arms may be seen; undoubtedly this silver at one time formed part of some regal service of plate. This is an extremely uncommon and interesting piece.

No. 21 has the letter “L” beneath the date 1645, which appears to be a silversmith’s private stamp indicating the source from whence it originally came.

On Nos. 19 and 22 the reading is “Newarke.”

The four ninepences, numbered 23, 24, 25, and 26, show three different crowns, Nos. 25 and 26 being replicas. On the obverse of No. 25 there are two “K’s” at the end of the word “Newarke,” showing this coin was doubly struck.

The sixpences, numbered 27 and 28, are alike.

Tokens.—During the seventeenth century money continued to be extremely scarce, especially that of small denomination, probably owing to the exactions made for the wars and to the poverty of the inhabitants, and tokens—chiefly halfpennies and farthings of copper or brass—were struck by corporate bodies, chamberlains, and all descriptions of tradesmen with the names of the owners thereon to facilitate easy purchase and ready settlement. These tokens were superseded, after 1672, by the coinage of the realm.

A token in money is understood to be a coin issued by a private individual or firm above its real value, but intrinsically a guarantee of good faith of the issuer that he will pay the nominal value when demanded.

The first mention of tokens is by Ruding. He quotes from the writer of the History of Allchester in 1622:—“King Edward, 1272–1307, his leathern money bearing his name, stamp, and picture, which he used in the building of Carnarvon, Beaumarish, and Conway Castles.”

Newark Siege Pieces: Ninepences and Sixpences.

From photograph by Mr. S. Barlow Vines.

In Nottinghamshire 121 tokens are known representing halfpennies and farthings, all of which were issued between the years 1650 to 1670. I only illustrate a few:—

[317]

Nottingham.

Obverse. | Nottingham halfe penny chainged by ye Chamberlain 1669.
Reverse. | Arms of the Town of Nottingham. (No. 29.)
Obverse. | Thomas Burrowes. A rose with Sm above.
Reverse. | In Nottingham. A. Castle. (No. 30.) ½
Obverse. | John Blunt at the Weeke. A man on horseback with panniers.
Reverse. | Day Cross of Nottingham Baker his halfpenny. (No. 31.)
Obverse. | Roger Hawksley 1666. Merchant Tailors’ Arms.
Reverse. | in Nottingham. His halfpenny. (No. 32.)
Obverse. | George Borzowes 1669. In Nottingham.
Reverse. | Salathyell Groves. ½ under three goats’ heads. (No. 33.)

Bingham.

Obverse. | Thomas Markham Chandler 1669.
Reverse. | in Bingham his halfepenny. (No. 34.)

Collingham.

Obverse. | Thomas Ridge his halfpenny. The Grocers’ Arms.
Reverse. | of Collingham Mercer 1664. The Mercers’ Arms T.R. (No. 35.)

Mansfield.

Obverse. | Samuel Haulton. A pair of scales hanging from chief wavy part of the Bakers’ Arms.
Reverse. | of Mansfield 1664. His halfpenny. (No. 36.)

[318]

Newark.

Obverse. | Joshua Clarke Mercer in. Grocers’ Arms.
Reverse. | Newark his halfpenny 1666. The Mercers’ Arms I.C. (No. 37.)

Retford.

Obverse. | William Hall. His halfpenny.
Reverse. | of Rettforde 1668—W.A.H. (No. 38.)

Southwell.

Obverse. | Gregory Silvester. Southwell.
Reverse. | William Leaver 1664. G.S. W.L. (No. 39.) ½

Worksop.

Obverse. | Thomas Lee 1666. The Grocers’ Arms.
Reverse. | in Wourksop—T.F.L. (No. 40.) ¼

During the latter part of the eighteenth century the coinage of copper and silver money by the Government was totally inadequate for the nation’s needs. This caused the revival of tokens. They were again issued in very large numbers by all kinds of tradesmen, manufacturers, and banks. The Bank of England alone in 1811 and 1812 issued no less than fourteen million silver tokens of the value of 3s. and 1s. 6d.

Sir Edward Thomason, in his Memoirs, states:—

“The copper and silver change became so extremely scarce that the demand for the manufacture of tokens to enable the masters to pay their workmen their weekly wage was so great that I had endless applications for both. I manufactured during this year silver and copper tokens for Wales, Brecon, Gainsborough, Newcastle-on-Tyne, and for many different establishments. In 1811 I manufactured above two million copper tokens for Samuel Fereday, the great ironmaster, who employed 5000 people.”

Perhaps the most interesting tokens of this period were [319]those of the firm of Messrs. Robert Davison & John Hawksley of Arnold. Both belonged to old Nottingham families; they were important business men and well-known philanthropists, Mr. Hawksley being presented with the freedom of the town of Nottingham.

Tokens.

From photograph by Mr. S. Barlow Vines.

The Hawksleys were maltsters, the Davisons hosiery manufacturers. Mr. Davison gave up the hosiery business and joined Mr. Hawksley in building a factory near Leen Side, Nottingham, for worsted spinning. This factory was burned down in January 1791. They at once commenced building new works at Arnold. These works were running before the end of the year. They were situated near the site of Arnot Hill House in which Mr. Hawksley lived. They did not prove a success, and the machinery was sold and the factory demolished.

Mr. Hawksley died in 1815 and Mr. Davison in 1807.

The issuing of these tokens of such high value in copper wherewith to pay their workpeople was exceptional.

It is strange that, although they issued these tokens in Arnold, I know of none being issued from their Nottingham works. They were of the value of 5s., 2s. 6d., 1s., and 6d., and all copper, but I have some of the tokens plated in silver and in gilt. The crowns and half-crowns are the most rare of all the Nottinghamshire tokens of this period. The shillings and sixpences are not uncommon.

Obverse. | Davison and Hawksley, and fleece suspended from a tree.
Reverse. | The Roman Fasces with the axe, spear, and a cap of liberty in saltire, Arnold works. A. crown 1791. (No. 41.)

The 2s. 6d., 1s., and 6d. pieces are similar, except in size and value.

A token for 5s. was issued from East Retford. This token was countermarked on a Spanish dollar.

The Treasury and many firms throughout the Kingdom countermarked these Spanish dollars and enormous numbers[320] were in circulation, but this is the only Nottinghamshire one known.

Messrs. Bolton & Whatt at their Soho Mint, Birmingham, countermarked over three millions previous to 1804.

On one occasion forty tons of dollars were taken from two Spanish frigates captured by the British fleet. This specie was taken to Plymouth and then forwarded on to the Bank of England.

A silver token for 1s. was issued by the timekeepers.

Obverse. | A griffin, with wings displayed, gorged, issuant from a ducal coronet; legend, one shilling token sterling silver.
Reverse. | For the use of the inns at Derby, Ashbourne, Chesterfield, Nottingham, Leicester, Lichfield, Burton, &c.

H. Morgan issued shillings and sixpences:—

Obverse. | The arms of Leicester, vert, a cinquefoil, between two sprigs of olive. One shilling silver tokens.
Reverse. | Notts, Derby, Leicester, Northampton, and Rutland shilling silver tokens. The outer legend—Morgan, licensed manufacturer, 12 Rathbone Place, London. (No. 42.)

Messrs. Donald & Co. issued a halfpenny token:—

Obverse. | Donald & Co., stocking manufacturers, wholesale and retail. Promissory halfpenny, payable Nottingm, or
Reverse. | A beehive with bees, No. 29 Hull Street, Birmingham, 1792. (No. 43.)

There are five or six varieties of these copper tokens. When the first die was made it was found that the word “promissory” was spelt “promissary.” This error was rectified by cutting “o” over the “a.” Afterwards fresh dies were made with the word spelt correctly.

Tokens.

From photographs by Mr. S. Barlow Vines.

[321]

The Newstead Abbey token for one penny:—

Obverse. | A view of Newstead Abbey. The words Newstead Abbey, and on the raised outer circle “Nottinghamshire,” and in small letters the name of the engraver Jacobs.
Reverse. | Two palm branches and the letters “T.G.”, and on the raised outer border “British Penny” and the date 1797. Round the edge of the coin is impressed the words—“I promise to pay on demand the bearer one penny.” (No. 44.)

In 1811 silver tokens were issued at Newark, value 1s. There are four varieties of these. Probably the issuing of these pieces by a number of tradesmen was done in order to share the cost of the die and to procure a quantity of tokens at a cheaper rate, and also to inspire confidence.

Obverse. | A view of the Town Hall with inscription—“Town Hall, 1811.” Newark silver token for one shilling.
Reverse. | The current value payable in cash notes. T. Stansall, Chas Moore, Richd Fisher, Wm Fillingham, Wm Readitt, and T. Wilson. (No. 45.)

Thomas Stansall was a grocer, Charles Moore a chemist, Richard Fisher and William Fillingham drapers, William Readitt a grocer, Thomas Wilson a brazier.

Copper tokens for one penny were also issued in 1811, of which three varieties exist:—

Obverse. | A view of Newark Castle and the river, with date 1811. “Newark token for one penny.”
Reverse. | The current value payable in cash notes. T. Stansall, Charles Moore, Richd Fisher, Wm Fillingham, Wm Readitt, T. Wilson. (No. 46.)

[322]

J. M. Fellows & Co., bankers, of Bridlesmith Gate, issued penny tokens, of which there are five varieties, dated 1812 and 1813:—

Obverse. | A view of Nottingham Castle. One penny token, 1812.
Reverse. | The arms of the borough in a circle, payable by J. M. Fellows, a pound note for 240. (No. 47.)

Mansfield silver shillings:—

Obverse. | Beehive and bees, C. & G. Stanton, Hancock; Wakefield & Co., and Wm Ellis, Mansfield.
Reverse. | Female seated on a bale with scales and cornucopia. One shilling silver token, 1812. (No. 48.)

Two varieties of this exist. Messrs. Stanton, Hancock, and Wakefield & Co. were cotton manufacturers; William Ellis a draper and woollen salesman.

In 1813, W. Baker, hosier, of Fletcher Gate, issued penny tokens:—

Obverse. | W^m Baker, Nottingham, an ornament between Baker and Nottingham. Legend—a pound note for 240 tokens, 1813.
Reverse. | One penny token within a wreath of oak and laurel. (No. 49.)

[323]

## THE CLOCKMAKERS OF NEWARK-ON-TRENT, WITH NOTES ON SOME OF THEIR CONTEMPORARIES
By H. Cook

Among the many inanimate things which invite us to reflect on bygone days and the life and activities associated with them, none are more insistent in their invitations than the sober faces and steady tickings of the clocks which measured out the time for our grandfathers, and often enough for our great-grandfathers. None are more reticent of the doings of the days that are gone; yet the very tickings are akin to a pulsation of energy and life which seem to invite us to search out the men who made, owned, or took pleasure in them in generations past. Nor is the invitation unheeded by some of those whose lot is cast among clocks and have the daily handling of them, and I will try, as one humble manipulator, to place on record a few of the most interesting characteristics of the makers of Newark-on-Trent, and incidentally of some of the village makers of Nottinghamshire.

The task of putting into order the whole of the makers of Nottinghamshire would be too large an undertaking for one individual; but in my many years’ experience of the “Grandfather” type of clock, I have found much of interest in the work of the Newark makers, and of others from the county which has come my way. At the outset, I am obliged to admit the meagre nature of the information to hand, as far as the early makers are concerned, for I find that Nottinghamshire, in common with the provinces[324] generally, had, in early days of domestic clocks, to draw on the London makers, at any rate for its best clocks; especially was this the case as early as the latter part of the seventeenth and beginning of the eighteenth century, and I have found in the neighbourhood at least one clock by Tompion, one by Etherington, one by Knibb, one by George Graham, and one by Daniel Quare.[89]

These odd clocks, surviving from the seventeenth century to the present time, are sufficient to indicate the way Nottinghamshire men of those days were compelled to import from London the much-prized “Grandfather,” or cased clock, with the newly invented royal pendulum (the application of Galileo’s invention). But, however much this was the case, it soon came about that the towns in the county, and very soon a great many of the villages even, had their own clockmakers, and it is with these we are concerned for the present.

Any clock work earlier than the typical cased clock is very rare indeed around Newark, and I am not aware of any example of the table clock, and of only one example of the lantern variety. Considering that public clocks must have been in use before these days, it is a matter for wonder that there are few or none of earlier types coming to light, notwithstanding all our researches and bargain hunting. I have advertised personally, in likely quarters, and kept a sharp look-out for the last twenty-five years without success, although various pieces of supposed early work have come to me.

Beginning with Newark, I find that William Gascoigne is the earliest maker of the “Grandfather” clock we have, and Plate 1 shows the style of work he turned out in the early part of the eighteenth century. He was a maker of eight-day clocks of the usual quality of his day, when all work was good, but the illustration shows[325] only a thirty-hour clock; for although I have an illustration of an eight-day clock, I selected this because of its unusual features; for it should be noted that, although only a one-day clock, it has a seconds dial and hand all complete, as though it were an eight-day timepiece. The quality of the work in the corner-pieces, which are nicely cut up and carved after the casting, and in the hands, which show a bit of finely drilled and pierced iron work, and in the solidity of the dial plate and hour circle with the pretty numbering in vogue in those days, make it of rather greater interest than the eight-day clocks by the same maker.

William Gascoigne bore the name of an old Newark family which for generations had mixed in the life and affairs of the town. He appears to have been in business as late as 1728, for W. Stukeley, in his Itinerarium Curiosum (vol. i. p. 106, 1776), tells how he was informed by Mr. T. Hurst of Grantham, that he had seen at Mr. Gascoigne’s, a goldsmith in Newark, a large gold ring, weighing 42s., lately brought him by a countryman who had found it upon the Fosse Way, and he afterwards makes comment that it was supposed to show a wolf upon it, but he found it was a fox beneath a tree, and he bought the ring. To the name of Gascoigne also belongs, I believe, the distinction of the mention of the earliest domestic clock in our Newark annals. In 1678, March 11th, John Gascoigne, the glover, gave by his will to William Cook, “The Clock and the Jack,” an interesting note, as any allusion to domestic clocks at this date is very rare, and it gives an idea of their value and the esteem in which they were held. I have seen one at least of these early jacks, a wooden pillar on a heavy foot, carrying a gear work on the top propelled by a weight running down the back of the pillar and spinning the joint in front of a tray of metal which covers and protects both joint and jack.

But surprises come when least expected in clock research. Having heard of a marquetry-cased clock of[326] Gascoigne of Newark far away in Devonshire, I was anxious to procure it, expecting to find the well-accredited “William” on the dial, but much to my surprise the dial bore the inscription “Owin” Gascoigne, in Newark, and this was the first and last of the Owin Gascoigne clocks I had seen, or ever expect to see. I may add that it was a very early and undeniably good month clock, and is now doing good service in a mansion in Lincolnshire. But the puzzle of how to explain the fact that William Gascoigne is well known, while Owin Gascoigne suddenly appears on the scene, is a mystery, unless we solve it by the conjecture that Owin was a relation of William, and had ordered the clock from him, a possible solution, when we remember that the family were well established in Newark, and were most likely well provided with this world’s goods. William Gascoigne seems to have flourished in the town from about 1700 to 1740, when there is a record of his death on the 23rd February.

A worthy competitor and contemporary of Gascoigne was Nicholas Goddard, and Plate 1 shows an eight-day clock of his which is in most details very like those made by his compeer Gascoigne, though he also made some arched dials, of whose manufacture by Gascoigne I have no evidence. The clock dials of both were similar, indicating that there were fashions as well as variations to tickle the popular palate in those days as much as in our times. The name of Goddard is even more impressed on our local history than that of Gascoigne, for we have a record of one Nicholas Goddard, who married in 1558, and the name runs through our history for 150 years. In 1659 “Henrie” Goddard was paid by the churchwardens for mending the chimes and for other work about the church, and, for 209 lbs. of iron for the steeple stairs, the sum of £4, 19s. 2d.

Plate 1.

Clocks by

William Gascoyne.

Nicholas Goddard.

Plate 2.

Clocks by

William Barnard.

Edward Smith.

Though Nicholas seems to have been the family Christian name for many generations, the clockmaker Nicholas has left his name behind him more frequently than any of [327]his forbears, and there are a good many of his clocks still to be seen ticking away with their brass faces beaming out from dark oak cases. As far as we can tell from the little evidence we have, his death occurred in 1741. His work was fine and artistic as well as substantial.

About this time we hear of William Marshall, whose clocks are all of a rather less costly make and usually “thirty hours.” One peculiar feature in all his dials is the printing in Roman capitals of the name between the hours 7 and 5, in the usual place, but with the “William” one side of the 6, all in proper order, while the name “Marshall” was so cramped into the space between the 6 and 5 that the last two letters were always placed on the top of the “sha,” a peculiar habit, to say the least of it. His work was not so artistic as either Gascoigne’s or Goddard’s. They all made cast dial-plates and corner-pieces, but, in Marshall’s case, these were not so well carved, and there was little or no ornamental cutting on the plate or circle.

After Nicholas Goddard and William Marshall comes William Barnard, by far the most prolific of our local makers. Barnard had a peculiarity not known so far as I am aware in the work of any other maker: he was sufficiently bold to place a number on all his clocks, whether they were one-handed one-day clocks, eight-day clocks with the usual square dials, or even a moon-arched top dial. On some of his dials he put a round number and name-plate under the hour 12, in others he put the name in the place usual at the period—between the hours of 7 and 5—and the number inside the seconds dial space; or, in the case of the moon dial, the name was placed round one hemisphere and his number round the other. These small details are a pleasing feature, pointing us to the fact that he was not in the habit of making clocks for other people to sell, but was what we should prefer him to be—the maker-seller, and consequently the individual who had an interest in the future behaviour of clocks bearing his name. He[328] also made one or two very unusual movements, one of which, an eight-inch dial with alarm works, now in the Friary House at Newark, is illustrated here (Plate 2). This is a pretty little dial, and the hand shows the alarm hour through its tail, extended for the purpose, while the cherub corners are like some I have seen on Gascoigne’s hood clocks, and the number is not very far advanced, for some of his dials are numbered as high as 1200, while some approach 1300, but I suspect that he did not begin at 1. Only on one of his clocks have I seen the dial without the name and number, and here they are both cut into the back of the movement. Though by no means certain, it is very probable that Barnard succeeded to Goddard’s business and largely added to it, for there is a similarity in the details of the mechanical portions of their work.

The sequence of numbers on the dials has given scope for fun on many occasions. I remember well a deaf old gentleman coming into my shop and announcing that he had the oldest clock in Newark—made in 1050. After much loud questioning, I ascertained that Barnard was the maker, and when I had brought down from the workshop a similar dial, with the number 1215 on it, he was quite a long time before he realised what age Barnard must have been when he made the second of these two specimens, and I had much difficulty in persuading him that the number was only a number and not a date. Barnard flourished from 1740 to 1780, about which date William Unwin appears with work (Plate 3) very similar to that of Barnard’s later years. While all Gascoigne’s cases were of oak or veneered walnut, and Barnard’s were of oak only, Unwin introduced us to the mahogany case. Unwin’s shop was in Kirk Gate, opposite the famous stage-coaching house of Gilstrap’s, at the northern end of the Nottingham and Notts Bank premises, with a door into the passage leading down the adjacent Wheat Sheaf yard. It was here he afterwards conducted a partnership with Holt, whom we shall note later, and there is presumptive evidence that[329] Barnard occupied the same premises, which have thus been a clockmaker’s shop for a century. Before it was pulled down it presented a very old-fashioned appearance with its bow window of many small panes, and the half-doors with the top portion filled with bull’s-eye glass. Unwin was in business here in 1780, in which year we find him a voter at the election. In 1791 he subscribed five shillings to the fund for lighting the town by lamps. I have also evidence of his being there in 1801 from a watch bearing his name and the date letter of that year which came into my hands. Unwin lived at the time of the transition from the brass dials to the cheaper iron painted ones. Occasionally on the back of these latter we find the little painted label used by the painters to indicate the style in which the dial was to be finished, a detail which shows us that the later practice of keeping dials on hand from Birmingham had not yet begun. The dial plate was made and fitted, the label stuck on at the back, and the portions printed on it which were not required were struck off, and the painter worked from the remainder. So in examining Unwin’s work we see fine brass dials, an odd but equally fine brass silvered dial, and many painted ones, and in all varieties of faces the well-worked iron hands remained. The cases, however, began to change, the long door of the earlier makers became shorter, and rather more detail appeared, but on the whole the plain school predominated.

We must now consider another old maker of importance, who, like Gascoigne and Goddard, possessed an old Newark name. Solomon Bettinson’s (so spelled for many generations, though afterwards changed to Bettison), name appears in the 1780 and 1796 election poll books, and on a particularly interesting clock (Plate 3) now in the Chantry House, with a plain oak case with cushion top, a 14-inch circular brass and silvered dial, centre seconds hand, centre day of the month hand, and a well-engraved dial whereon is inscribed his own name, Solomon Bettison,[330] Newark, and above it, crowded in among the numbers of the days of the month, is the name of Sarah Flear, for whom Bettison originally made the clock. This Sarah Flear was married at Flintham to Richard Greene, on 4th June 1792. Richard Greene and Sarah, his wife, had a daughter, to whom the clock eventually belonged, and it was her nephew, an old man of some eighty years of age, told me how Sarah Flear had had this clock made when she was about to be married and set up a house of her own. The Flintham register supports these statements, and thus gives us the date, 1792, for the manufacture of this clock. Bettison made square dials to his clocks as well as round ones, and he seems to have been partial to those with engraved centres instead of the usual matted and lacquered ones.

But I am neglecting some of the contemporaries of Bettison and Barnard, who did good work in both square and round dial clocks. About this time, 1780, there was on both square and round a pattern much in vogue, which may be best described as the pagoda style of cutting. Some of the round dials made by Edward Crampton, Barnard’s apprentice, and by Stacey of Farnsfield, were fine examples of the engraver’s art. The centres of the square dials are, at this period, treated in the same way for the most part. Unwin, Bettison, Crampton, together with John Crampern and Edward Smith, who are described in the marriage registers, under the years 1773 and 1775 respectively, as watchmakers, were all contemporaries, and followed the fashion of the time. I am afraid it is a mistake on the part of the registers to call Crampern and Smith watchmakers; it ought to have been clockmakers, for I have never met with any watch of Newark make at this early date. Although not of the particular pattern alluded to above, the clock by Edward Smith (Plate 2), now at Ossington Hall, has a very good engraved and filled black and silvered centre dial. Though not a bit better than other contemporary work of this period (about 1780), Smith’s clock shows the fashion of the time[331] in the preference of the graver for the matting tool. Such clocks look very well indeed in their plain oak cases, with cushion tops and well-proportioned trunks and bases. One dial by Crampern has a very interesting appearance. It is 12 inches square, and the silvered centre shows a village inn, the Chequers, on one side, while on the other is a summer-house with latticed shelter and a table on which stands a foaming tankard. Seated are two figures, one male and one female, each smoking a clay pipe.

The dials made by Thomas Stacey of Farnsfield are worth illustrating, but space forbids. Stacey was married to Margaret Gamble on 5th June 1774, and the family went to live at Southwell, finding it most likely a better centre for their business. They are to be found there until nearly the middle of the nineteenth century.

At this point it would be well to consider one or two other places in the neighbourhood which were as well provided with clockmakers as Newark.

At the time Barnard and his contemporaries were flourishing at Newark, there was at Sutton in Ashfield a family named Boot, who made clocks in many respects similar to those of Barnard. The first of the name, John Boot, had his own peculiar fancy as to dials. Many of his one-day clocks had, like Barnard’s, only one hand—a cheap economy. There was a round number and name-plate under the hour of 12, and drilled through the dial, in line with the centre hole, were two holes nicely decorated with turned rings, while the rest of the centre of the dial was chased with wild roses—a very effective and distinctive treatment. This particular dial was peculiar to him, I believe, though he made other varieties, such as eight-day clocks similar to those of Marshall and Barnard at Newark. Next comes John Boot, junior, who adhered to the square dial-plates, and to many of the family peculiarities. He was followed by John and William Boot, whose work was done about the year 1780. About the same time we have a flat engraved dial with arched top, centre seconds hand,[332] and calendar work similar to that (Plate 3) illustrating Bettison’s work, inscribed with the name, Elizabeth Boot. I have, however, seen very few with the lady’s name on them. The very fact of their being a clockmaking family is a rare occurrence, and can only be paralleled in Newark in later years by the Westons.

At this period we find several makers of note in Nottingham, of whom the earliest seems to be John Wyld. Mansfield, too, had a Glazebrook, whose work was of the same style; but with the makers of these towns I am not very familiar, and must leave them to more competent treatment.

Another interesting phase of the subject now invites attention. Plate 4 shows a very marked and artistic piece of work by Humphry Wainwright of Bunny. The clock plays a tune every three hours, and on the arch of the dial is depicted a music school of a primitive kind, with the closed music scroll lying on the table, the fiddlers large and and small, the horns and clarinets, the spinnet and the conductor, all make up a very droll picture. This clock, the property of E. F. Milthorp, Esq., has a 14-inch square dial, and a beautifully designed mahogany case, a vivid contrast to some of the cruder bits of work, such as that shown in Plate 4. Wainwright seems to have devoted some attention to church clocks, and one of his make can still be seen in the neighbourhood. One Wainwright is found working at Nottingham in 1797, and this may be Humphry, or perhaps John.

Plate 3.

Clocks by

S. Bettison.  W. Barnard.  W. Unwin.

Plate 4.

Clocks by

Humphrey Wainwright of Bunny.

Will. Foster of Marnham.

We must now just pause to note what may fairly be called some oddments of the clock trade. Single specimens of brass dials by local makers are found, such as that with the name, “F. Witton, Norwell,” or one bearing an old Newark name, Samuel Callis, or the one illustrated (Plate 4) by Will. Foster of Marnham. These must all be regarded with doubt and reserve, from the fact that they are isolated specimens. Many clocks were made by amateurs, and perhaps these may be thus accounted for; or perhaps [333]they were made to order by clockmakers, and the purchaser’s name put on the dial. That there were makers in these villages who made clocks for trade purposes, we have seen at Bunny and Sutton in Ashfield. The specimen by Will. Foster of Marnham was probably the work of an amateur, for its dial cutting is unequally divided and poorly cut, the open work of its hands is of poor design, the wheel work is very crude, and the teeth slots are of various depths, the teeth points are variously shaped; in fact, the whole is suggestive more of the file than of the turner’s cutting tools. The case, too, is most primitive, with its long narrow door all painted and grained; yet, notwithstanding all its deficiencies, it is still ticking away and marking the hours. The clocks by Callis and Francis Witton are both creditable examples of work and denote professional skill.

A very unusual clock, by William Simpson of Southwell, is now at Brackenhurst Hall. It has a fine mahogany case, silvered dial, and quarter-chime movement. Simpson was an ingenious mechanic, who has left behind him, among other things, a curious thirty-hour “virgule” escapement. He, like Wainwright and the Burrells, who are mentioned later, was concerned with the manufacture of turret clocks. He seems to have been in business at the beginning of the nineteenth century.

We have now come to a parting of the ways. Brass dials give place to painted ones, and the clockmaker becomes subservient to the cabinetmaker. Birmingham dial makers are more and more employed, with the result that we see quite a number of similar dials. We must say farewell to the plain oak cases, with their long doors; and view the more recent plain oak cases with mahogany pillars, the mahogany cases, with flat, silvered dials, such as Unwin and Holt in particular made, the oak cases polished to a lighter colour, with mahogany facings, and the mahogany scroll top cases with satin-wood decorations.

Unwin is the first of the new school which was to rule[334] for the next fifty years, and make brass dials a thing of the past. After Holt joined him (as Unwin & Holt), we never find another of his clocks with a brass dial, and this partnership in 1805 sees the last of the old style.

The competition for the premier place lay between Richard Herring, William Weston, and Richard Holt, and it was to the latter that the honour fell. Weston was in business in 1790 and 1825, and all his clocks had the painted dials. Both he and Herring were subscribers to the 1791 lamp fund for lighting the streets of Newark, and in 1804 both were volunteers. Weston was succeeded by his son James, of whom we have evidence in 1839, and then the names of James and John appear on the dials, and finally the general description, “Westons Newark.”

Holt applied his skill and energy to the business, which, after Unwin’s retirement, became very large. His name occurs on some gold and silver watches, which there is every reason to believe were made either in London or Birmingham. It is also to be found on the dials of bronzed brass bracket clocks, which may or may not be his own work, but there is no doubt about the maker of his clocks of the “Grandfather” type. Some good bracket clocks in mahogany cases also bear his name, and it was through him and his contemporaries that these were brought to the notice of local buyers. To this list may be added the short fall and spring dial and drop dial clocks, though these latter were soon being imported from Birmingham.

He continued in business until 1845, but though many of his clocks have pretty mahogany cases and interesting dials, they no longer concern us, since these had become ready made. Though he taught his sons the trade, they did not succeed, though one, Richard, started in opposition to his father, but the name died out. Holt’s contemporary was Henry Goodwin, who was in every way his equal.[335] Other rivals were William Weaver, Richard Hardy, Hardy and Son, George Ganter, and John and James Priest. William Weaver was very fond of a style of dial representing a ship in full sail on a painted ocean, the vessel rising and falling with the swinging of the pendulum. Ganter came to Newark as a Dutch clock pedlar, and settled there. James Priest made clocks in the old style, and saw the art die out as a local industry. At his death, in 1889, he left a cellar full of his earlier efforts, together with one or two finished items, which must have been standing in the shop for fully forty years.

About 1840 a lamentable, though not unexpected, event happened. The cabinetmakers in Newark became tired of making cases for the clockmaker, and the practice began of the clockmaker making movements for their cases, and though in itself a regrettable feature, the result has left us some really beautiful cases of this period, notably by Cawthorn, Dalman, and Barber. The man who seems to have made movements for them was John Baker (who worked at one time for Holt), who cut his name and a number on the plate at the back of the dial. In contradistinction to this procedure, we have to note R. Wade, of Staythorpe, a village four miles from Newark, who combined the two operations. A clock-case maker by trade, he went to London to work in the piano-case trade and clock-case making, and there he conceived a fancy for the mechanical side of clock making.[90] After some years he returned to Staythorpe, and set up as a maker of both clock and case. His work was of a very creditable character, and quite a number of his clocks are in good working order in the neighbourhood. He was an eccentric character, and left his mark in many little[336] details about the premises which he occupied at Staythorpe until his death.

No account of the local village clockmakers would be complete without some mention of the Burrells of Collingham, a family who worked there till about 1860 and then migrated to Sheffield, where they became firmly established. However, the attraction of the mechanical side of the trade was too strong for the mercantile side, and they embarked on a system of time synchronisation which brought them ill fortune. Their initials are stamped upon an old clock, probably made about 1800, at Sutton-on-Trent church, showing that they did large as well as small work.

Andrew Esdaile of Bingham is another notable character of the period 1830–1850. Though his clocks are not plentiful, the stories of him and of his poetic inclinations are numerous. From the fact that he eventually turned author, we may perhaps conclude that he paid more attention to literature than to horology.

I have kept a careful watch for any effect Pitt’s Act of Parliament may have had on our local industry, but I have not been able to trace any at all, for our local products seem to be the same at that time (1797–98) as before and after, and no Act of Parliament clock of local origin has ever been under my notice, so we may conclude that the scare which shook the trade was not felt here very severely. I have also never seen a lacquered case with local works inside it, and, no doubt, the choicer kinds of cases were not made by our local artists. When we come to think that nearly all our early marquetry was done by the Dutch inlay workers who followed William III. to England, and that probably the lacquer decorated cases became, after a very few years, their work also, we are compelled to conclude that these arts were not general in the provinces, so that we must not expect to see them applied in the case of the Newark clocks, much less in that of the rural specimens, though there are some fine mahogany cases which are exceptions to this.

[337]

The list of Newark makers that follows shows the division of—(1) those who made brass dials only; (2) those who made both brass and painted dials; and (3) those who made clocks with painted dials only.

This delegation of the brass dials to a secondary position must be attributed to their cost when compared with that of the painted dials. The makers of this last popular style also made the shortfall and mantle clocks.

In the last period the cases were doubtless made by Cawthorn, or Dalman, or Fletcher, or Parlby, but in the earlier ones the case makers are quite as unknown as the clock work would be were it not for the names inscribed and the incentive thus given to learn more about them. The later makers are identified by such details as the dates on watch-case papers (some of them worth illustrating), by the hall-markings of the cases of their watches, by scraps in the form of receipts for work done, and by leaves from tradesmen’s old ledgers; but for our knowledge of the earlier makers we have to go further afield, and help in this direction is gratefully acknowledged.

The date of a clock may be gauged fairly accurately by noting first the plainness of outline of the cases and the length of the door, which in early times was very pronounced. There was usually a bottle glass panel in the door. In a few years plainness gave way to cross-banded ornament, and this in its turn to veneering with mahogany, or, in the better cases, to mahogany with veneered facings. These styles were ousted by the ornate cases in light oak, with very short doors and mahogany decorations in veneer and line inlay. As a general rule, however, the earlier the work the better it is, both as to case and clock, especially the latter.

My own connection with the clockmakers of Newark has only been of a secondary character, although I have spent many happy days among their work. Yet I remember that I am the last apprentice of the late John Harvey (who died in 1886), who was himself the last apprentice of Thomas[338] Hardy, the survivor of Hardy & Son, who are mentioned above.

(1) | William Gascoigne | 1700–1740
| Nicholas Goddard | 1700–1741
| William Marshall | 1730–1770
| William Barnard | 1740–1780
| Edward Smith. | 1770–1790
| Solomon Bettison | 1750–1795
| Edward Crampton | 1760–1790
(2) | John Crampern | 1770–1800
| William Unwin | 1780–1805
(3) | William Weston | 1790–1820
| Richard Herring | 1790–1810
| Unwin & Holt | 1805–1810
| Richard Holt | 1810–1845
| James Weston | 1825–1840
| Henry Goodwin | 1815–1840
| Henry Goodwin, junior | 1842–1850
| Richard Hardy | 1820–1830
| Thomas Hardy & Son | 1830–1850
| Richard Holt, junior | 1840–1850
| William Weaver | 1835–1850
| James Priest | 1840–1888
| George Ganter | 1840–1850

[339]

## INDEX

- Abbess of Godstow, 66
- Abbey, Rufford, 54–56
- —— Shelforde, 100
- —— Welbeck, 54, 55, 56, 57, 59, 117, 177, 184, 186, 187
- Abbot Doncaster of Rufford, 57, 112
- —— of Combe, 66
- Acklom of Wiseton Hall, 172
- Act of Parliament clock, 336
- Adbolton, 100
- Adulterine castles dismantled, 8
- Alabaster monuments, 49, 50
- Albini, William de, 113, 114
- Alms, obligatory, 59
- Almshouses, or hospitals, 55
- Ancaster, 84
- —— quarries, 13
- —— stone, 292
- Anlaf Guthfrithson, 7
- Annals of Nottinghamshire, quoted, 180, 181, 209
- Anne, 77
- —— of Denmark at Newstead Priory, 69
- Annesley park, 117, 119, 123
- Antiquities of Nottinghamshire, quoted, Thoroton’s, 53, 262, 263, 272
- Archbishop Cranmer, 10, 67
- —— Drummond, 250
- —— Ealdred, 244, 245
- —— Geoffrey de Ludham, 63
- —— Gerard, 245, 246
- —— John le Romeyne, 36, 38, 41, 251, 255
- —— Kinsi, 245
- —— Lawrence Booth, 48
- —— Oskytel, 242
- —— Roger, 33
- —— Romanus, 64
- —— Thomas de Corbridge, 251
- —— Walter de Gray, 33, 41, 63, 251, 252, 254
- —— Wickwaine, 64
- Archbishop of York, Thomas II., 22
- Architecture, Cistercian, 34
- —— mediæval church, 12–53
- —— of Blyth Priory Church, 20–22, 23
- —— of Southwell Minster, 22–25
- Army, struggle to find recruits for the, 171
- —— weekly assessment of Notts for the Parliamentary, 171
- Arnold chancel, 41, 42
- —— Forest, 116
- —— Gothic screen, 124
- —— Matthew, 207, 209
- “Array,” Charles’s “Instructions to Commissioners of,” 174
- Ashburnham, John, 190
- Ashdown, battle of, 308
- Ashfield, 106
- Assessment of Notts for the Parliamentary army, weekly, 171
- Athelstan, 242, 306, 308
- Atherstone, Edwin, 215
- Atkin of North Muskham, John, 224, 225
- Attachment Courts, 113, 115
- Attempt to gain possession of Trent Bridge, 182
- Attenborough, 96
- —— rood-stair, 124
- —— sculptured arcade at, 27
- —— spire, 51, 288
- Augustinian canons, 32
- Averham, 96, 105
- —— Church, herring-bone work in, 19
- —— screen, 124, 125

- Babington chantry chapel at Kingston-on-Soar, 50
- Bailey, Philip James, 193, 210–212, 216
- —— Thomas, 180, 209
- Baker, John, 335
- Balderton, 26, 188
- —— Church, 30
- —— screen, 125
- —— tower, 289
- Balkfield, 106
- Ballard attacks Newark, 176, 177
- Balliol, Henry, 61
- Barber, 335
- Bardolph, William, 113
- Barker, Matthew Henry, 153
- Barnard, William, 327, 328, 329, 330, 331, 338
- Barnby-in-the-Willows, 303
- —— —— spire, 37, 38
- “Bars,” Nottingham, 229
- Barton, John, 48
- —— steeple, 288
- Barton-in-Fabis screen, 167
- Basford, 234
- —— Forest, 116
- Basingfield, 106
- Bassetlaw, wapentake of, 28, 271
- Battle of Edgehill, 175
- Battle of the Idle, 6
- Bawtry, 55
- Bayley, A. M. Y., 163
- Beacon Hill, 176
- Beauvale Priory, 54, 55, 58, 125
- —— —— screens, 125
- Beckingham, 38, 157
- —— Church, 28
- —— screen, 125, 126
- —— tower, 52
- Bede, 240
- Belasyse, Lord, 187, 191
- Belfin, Thomas, 131
- Belgæ, 4
- Bellar Gate, 233
- Bellcotes, 300
- Bellfounders’ Yard, 233
- Belvoir Castle, 187, 188
- —— Vale of, 13
- Benedictine nuns, Wallingwells, 54
- —— Priory, Blyth, 54, 55, 56, 58
- Bernesconi renovates ornament, Southwell pulpitum, 156
- Besthorpe, 97, 98, 104
- Bestwood Park, 60, 118, 119, 120
- Bettinson, Solomon, 329, 330, 338
- Bilhaugh, 116, 117, 122
- Bilsthorpe rood stairs, 126
- Bingham, 36, 37, 298
- —— steeple, 285, 286
- —— token, 317
- Binham Church, 35
- Birkin, John de, 111
- Birkin, Thomas de, 111
- Birkland, 116, 117, 119, 122
- Bishop of Southwell, Dr. Ridding, 267
- —— Rotherham, 142
- —— Walter Langton, 41
- Black or Austin priories, 54
- Blackwell, Sir Thomas, 172
- Blagg, T. M., 132, 167, 222, 224
- Blake, Prior Robert, 66
- Blidworth, 70, 114, 117
- Blown Sands, 97–98
- Blunt, Charles, 153
- Blyth Hall gallery, 127
- —— Priory Church, 12, 20–23, 25, 28, 34–36, 54–56, 58
- —— —— obligatory alms, 59
- —— —— screens, 126–129, 167
- —— —— tower, 52
- Bole, 102, 103, 104
- —— Church, 16
- —— tower, 52
- Bones of extinct mammalia found in the valley deposits, 91
- Booker, Luke, 212
- —— Richard, 209
- Boot, John, 331
- —— William, 331
- Booth, Archbishop Lawrence, 48
- Bore, Trent, 103
- Bosworth fight, 9
- Boundary between North and South England, Trent the, 3
- Bousfield, H. N., 224, 225
- Bowman of Stamford, 143
- Boxgrove, La Warre chapel at, 50
- Brackenhurst Hill, 239
- Bracket clocks, 334
- Bradbury, William, 220
- Bradebusk, 55
- Bradmore steeple, 274
- Brampton, 93
- Brant Broughton, 38
- Brass trade of Nottingham, 9
- Brewing trade of Nottingham, 9
- Bribour, 108
- Bridge, Gunthorpe, 238
- —— Kelham, 98
- —— Newark, 238
- —— Nottingham, 238
- —— Trent, 96
- —— Wilford, 238
- —— destroyed 1683, Newark, 93
- —— destroyed 1683, Nottingham, 93
- Bridgford (West) screen, 129, 130
- Bridlesmith Gate, Nottingham, 229, 233
- Briggs, A. E., 143
- Britons, 3, 4
- Broadholme nunnery, 54, 58
- Brown, Cornelius, 148
- Browne, Frank, 226
- Brythonic Celts, 4
- Bulcote, 197
- Bulwell, 234
- Bunny, 271
- —— clockmakers, 333
- —— screen, 130–131
- —— steeple, 289
- —— W., 214
- Burgage Green, 251
- Burnet, Bishop, 66
- Burrells of Collingham, 333, 336
- Burton, 102, 103, 104
- —— Joyce, 303
- —— —— spire, 278, 279
- —— Lazars, 297
- Byland Church, 34
- Byron family, 69–74
- —— George Gordon Noel, Lord, 12, 59, 67, 69, 74, 193, 197, 203–206, 265
- —— of Newstead, Lord, 121
- —— Richard, 100
- —— Sir Gilbert, 191
- —— of Colwick, Sir John, 68, 71, 73, 172
- —— of Newstead Abbey, Sir John, 197
- —— Sir Richard, 179, 181

- Callis, Samuel, 332, 333
- Calvert, William, 226
- Calverton, 10, 113
- —— rood, 131
- —— tower, 26
- Camden, 240
- Canute, 309, 310
- Car Colston, 302
- —— —— arrow vane, 293
- —— —— chancel, 41, 42, 44
- —— —— screen, 132
- —— —— steeple, 52, 287, 292
- Carlton Home, 101, 104
- Carlton-in-Lindrick tower, 17, 52
- Carlton-on-Trent steeple, 293
- Carmelite friars, Nottingham, 54
- —— Friary Church rood, Nottingham, 150
- Cars, the, 6
- Carter, Mary Ann, 226
- Carthusian Priory, Beauvale, 54, 55, 58, 125
- Cartwright, Sir Hugh, 172
- Cassandra, Willoughby, Duchess of Chandos, 77, 79, 84, 85
- Castle Art Museum, Nottingham, 204, 214
- —— Belvoir, 187, 188
- —— Cuckney, 8
- —— Donnington, 271
- —— —— stone, 288, 291
- —— Dudley, 212
- —— Hayton, 153
- —— Newark, 8, 191
- —— Nottingham, 7, 8, 109, 114, 173, 174, 176, 180, 181, 191, 229–231
- —— Tamworth, 19
- —— Tickhill, 16
- Castles dismantled, adulterine, 8
- Caunton, sculptured arcade at, 27
- Caux, Maud de, 107, 108, 110, 111
- Cave dwellings, 3
- Cavendish, Charles, 178, 179, 180
- —— William, 197
- Cawthorn, 335, 337
- Central steeples, in the county only, 286
- Ceolwulf, 241
- Ceonulph, 242
- Chandlers’ Lane, Nottingham, 229
- Chantries, 48, 49
- Chapel Bar, Nottingham, 229, 230
- Chapter Decree Books, Southwell, 264
- —— House, Southwell, 255
- Charles I., 231
- —— at Newark, 170
- —— at Nottingham, 170
- —— at Southwell, 262
- —— refuses services of the Roman Catholics, 174, 175
- —— trial and execution of, 191, 192
- Charles’s failure in foreign wars, 169
- —— “Instructions to Commissioners of Array,” 174
- Charles II. at Newstead Priory, 69, 76
- Charterhouse, Beauvale, 56
- Chaworth, Lord, 172
- —— William, killed in duel by “Devil Byron,” 69
- Chesterfield, Earl of, 122, 171, 187
- —— parclose, 157
- Christian, Ewan, 156
- Churches appropriated to monasteries, 16
- Cistercian Abbey, Rufford, 54, 55, 56
- —— architecture, 34
- Cities Weekly Post quoted, 189
- Civil War, the, 168–192
- Clarborough Church, 30
- Clay, division of the shire, 106, 110, 122
- Claypole, 38, 189
- Clays, of Nottinghamshire, red, 90
- Clayworth screen, 132–134
- Clifton, 55, 234
- Clifton Grove, 194
- Clifton-on-Trent chantry, 48
- Clifton, Sir Gervase, 172
- Clipstone, King of the Scots at, 8
- —— park, 118, 119, 120
- Clipston, royal hunting lodge at, 62
- Clockmakers of Newark, 323–338
- Clocks, “Grandfather,” 323, 324, 334
- Close Rolls, 114
- Clough, 209
- Cludd’s Oak, 262
- Clumber, 51
- —— park, 116, 121
- Cluniac Priory, Lenton, 54–56, 58, 59
- Cnut, 7
- Coal working at Nottingham, 9, 11
- Coddington, 91, 183, 188
- Coke of Brookhill, Col., 78
- College, Nottingham University, 234
- —— of Secular Canons, 244
- Colleges, or collegiate churches, 55
- Collingham, 94, 95, 97, 102, 104
- —— token, 317
- Collinson, Samuel, 220
- Colston Bassett Gothic screen, 134
- Colwick, 100
- Colwick, William de, 100
- Combe, Abbot of, 66
- Comperta, 57
- Constable, Henry, 194, 195, 196
- —— Sir Robert, 194
- Cooper, Sir Roger, 172, 177, 184,
- Corbridge, Archbishop Thomas de, 251
- Coritani tribe, 4
- Cornish and Gaymer, 157
- Cossall, 62
- —— steeple, 292
- Cossall, William de, 62
- Costock, 297
- —— screen, 134
- Cotgrave rood-stair, 134
- —— spire, 37, 228
- Cotton trade in the shire, 11
- Court, Forty-Day, 113
- Courts, Attachment, 113, 115
- Cox, Rev. Dr., 125, 135, 141, 143, 152, 153, 157, 167
- Cow Lane, Nottingham, 230
- Cowley, Abraham, 197
- Crampern, John, 330, 331, 338
- Crampton, Edward, 330, 338
- Crankley Point, 101, 102
- Cranmer, 10, 67
- Creswell Caves, 92
- —— Crags, 3
- Cromwell, 57, 58, 66, 116, 178, 179, 180, 184, 262
- —— at Newark, 177
- —— Church, herring-bone work in, 19
- Cropwell Bishop screen, 134
- Crossings of the Trent, 3
- Crumbwell, Ralph de, 114
- Cuckney Castle, 8
- Culpepper, Sir John, 174
- Cursham, Mary Ann, 214
- Cut, Kelham, 99
- Cuthred, 242

- Dalby, will of Alice, 151
- Dalman, 335, 337
- Dalton, Bishop Thomas, consecrated in Gedling Church, 36
- Danelagh, 7, 229
- Daniel, 195
- Danish invasion, 6
- Darwin, Erasmus, 202, 203
- Davison tokens, 319
- Death of John at Newark, 8
- Deer in royal forests, statistics of, 120
- —— of Sherwood, 118, 122
- —— red and fallow, 107
- Denham, 197
- Derivation of Nottingham, 228
- Despenser, Hugh, 113
- “Devil Byron,” 69, 72, 73
- Devon, the, 101
- Diary, or an Exact Journal, The, quoted, 186
- Dickinson, 98
- Digby, Sir John, 172, 175
- Dimock, J. F., 146, 156
- Dismantling of adulterine castles, 8
- Doddington, 91
- Dodsley, Robert, 199–202
- “Dogg-whipper,” the, 264
- Domesday Book, 105
- —— Survey, 107
- Dominican friars, 54
- Doncaster of Rufford, Abbot, 57
- —— William, 163
- Donham, Thomas de, 61
- Dorset, Earl of, 174
- Drakeholes, 6
- Drawswerd of York, Thomas, 146
- Drayton (East) screen, 134, 135
- —— Michael, 195
- Drayton’s Polyolbion, 108
- Drummond, Archbishop, 250
- Dryden, 198
- Dudley Castle, 212
- Duffield spire, 37
- Dunham, 95, 97, 101
- Dunham-on-Trent tower, 52
- Durham, John, Prior of Newstead, 63

- Eadgar, 7
- Eadwig, 7, 242, 243
- Eagle, 91
- Ealdred, Archbishop, 244, 245
- Earthworks, 4
- East Bridgford Saxon Church, 17
- East Drayton Church, 16
- Easter sepulchre, Fledborough, 42, 43
- —— —— Hawton, 12, 42
- —— —— Sibthorpe, 42, 43
- Eastfield, 106
- East Leake, 303
- —— —— herring-bone coursing at, 18, 25
- —— —— spire, 37, 288
- East Markham Church, 16, 47, 49
- —— —— tower, 52
- East Retford Church, 30
- —— —— tower, 51
- East Stoke, 10
- Ebranc, 228
- Edgar, 242
- Edgehill, Battle of, 175
- Edingley, 214
- Edward I., 61, 62
- —— II., 61, 62, 114
- —— III., 62, 230
- —— —— at Newstead Priory, 76
- —— IV., 63
- —— —— at Nottingham, 9
- Edward VI., 55
- —— the Confessor, 310, 311
- —— the Elder, 7, 235, 306
- Edwin of Northumbria, 6
- Edwinstowe, 62, 113, 116, 119, 121
- —— Church, 16
- —— spire, 51, 280
- Edwy, 307
- Effigies and tombs, 49–51
- Egmanton, 62, 63
- Eland, Governor of Nottingham Castle, 230
- Ælfric Puttoc, Archbishop of York, 244
- Elizabeth, 77, 120
- Elliot, Ebenezer, 73
- Elston, 202
- Elton screen, 135
- English and French boroughs in Nottingham, 7, 231, 232
- Epperstone chancel, 41
- —— steeple, 288
- Esdaile of Bingham, Andrew, 141, 336
- Essex, Earl of, 169, 175, 196
- Æthelfrith, defeat of, 6
- Æthelred, 7
- —— II., 308, 309
- Etherington, 324
- Everingham effigies, Laxton, 49
- —— Robert de, 111
- Evermuth, Walter de, 113
- Everton, carved tympanum at, 25
- —— Church, 30
- Eyre, Sir Gervase, 172

- Fairfax, Lord, 176
- Fallow deer, 107
- Families, Parliamentarian, 172
- —— Royalist, 171, 172
- Farndon, 91, 188
- —— with Balderton Church, 16
- Farnsfield, 106
- Felley Priory, 54, 177
- Ferry at Littleborough, Roman, 238
- Finningley screen, 135
- Firth, Professor, 171
- Fiskerton, 95, 97
- Fitzstephen, Ralph, 107, 108
- Fitzwilliam, Sir William, 257
- Five Boroughs, the, 7, 229
- Flatman, Thomas, 197
- Flawford spire, 292
- Fledborough Easter sepulchre, 42, 43
- —— Holme, 101
- Fledborough tower, 273
- Fleet stream, 104
- Fletcher, 337
- Flintham, 296, 300
- —— tower, 273
- Floods, Trent, 92–97
- Florence of Worcester, Chronicle of, 8, 247
- Font, Lenton, 26
- Forced loans, 169
- Fords on the Trent, 176
- Forest, Sherwood, 2, 6, 8, 106–123, 256, 281
- Forty-Day Court, 113
- Foss Dyke, 93, 94
- Fosse Way, 10, 240, 325
- Foster of Marnham, Will, 332, 333
- Fountains Church, 34
- Franciscan friars, Nottingham, 54, 114
- Frere, Miss, 167
- Friar Lane, Nottingham, 229
- Friar Tuck, 108
- Friary House at Newark, 328

- Gainsborough, 12, 96, 97, 102, 179, 180, 181, 184
- Gairdner, Dr., 58
- Gamston bridge, 236, 237
- —— rood-stair, 135
- —— tower, 52
- Ganter, George, 335, 338
- Gardiner, Mr., 179
- Gascoigne, William, 324, 325, 326, 328, 329, 338
- “Gates,” Nottingham, 229
- Gedling quarries, 279
- —— screen, 135
- —— spire, 36, 51, 271, 282–284, 293
- —— stone, 288
- Gell, Sir John, 176, 178
- Gerard, Archbishop, 245, 246
- Giffard’s register, 64
- Gilbertine Priory, Mattersey, 54
- —— —— of St. Katherine, 15, 16, 30
- Giles, Sidney, 226
- Gill, Harry, 125, 132, 142, 167
- Girdlesmith Gate, Nottingham, 230, 233
- Girton, 94, 95, 97, 98, 104
- Glazebrook of Mansfield, 332
- Glazed low side windows, 301–304
- “Goblin Friar,” Newstead, 74
- Goddard, Nicholas, 326, 327, 338
- Godfrey, J. T., 134, 135, 141, 153
- Godstowe, Abbess of, 66
- Goffe, 191
- Goidelic Celts, 4
- Golding of Colston Bassett, 172, 175
- Goldsmith’s work at Nottingham, 9
- Goodwin, Henry, 334, 338
- Goodyer, F. R., 220
- Goose Gate, Nottingham, 229
- Goring, 177
- Gospel lectern, Newstead, 72
- Gotham, 190, 271
- —— spire, 274, 276, 278
- Graham, George, 324
- Grammar School, Newark, 146
- Granby screen, 135
- Grange, Prior Richard de, 62
- Gray, Archbishop Walter de, 33, 41, 63, 251, 252, 254
- —— Col. Henry, 188
- —— Col. Theo, 188
- Green, quoted, Mrs. J. R., 9
- Greendale Oak, Welbeck, 117
- Grey Friars at Nottingham, 232
- Grey, Lord, 178, 179
- Gringley Park, 120
- Grosseteste, Bishop, 31
- Grove steeple, 293
- Guisbrough Priory, 35, 65
- Gunthorpe bridge, 238

- Habblesthorpe Church, 16
- Hacker, Col. Francis, 172, 191
- Haggonfield, 106
- Halam, 25
- —— tower, 273
- Hall, Spencer Timothy, 212, 213, 216
- —— will of Robert, 125
- —— —— William, 125
- —— Wollaton, 77–87
- Hampden, 169
- Hardicanute, 310
- Hardy, Richard, 335, 338
- Hareston, Robert de, 113
- Harold I., 310
- —— II., 311
- Harvey, John, 337
- Harworth, 25
- —— Church, 16
- Hastings, herring-bone masonry at, 18
- Hatfield, 110, 122
- Hawksley, Edward, 214
- —— tokens, 319
- Hawton, 45
- —— chancel, 41, 43, 44
- —— Easter sepulchre, 12, 42
- —— founder’s tomb, 49
- —— screen, 135, 136
- —— tower, 52
- Hays or parks of Sherwood, 119
- Hayton Castle, 153
- —— Church, 28, 30
- Haywood oaks, 117
- Heathfield, 6
- Henderson, Sir John, 176, 179
- Henry I., 60, 307, 312
- —— II., 60, 63, 253, 308
- —— —— takes possession of Nottingham Castle, 8
- —— III., 60, 61
- —— VI., 63
- —— VII. at Newark, 10
- —— —— at Newstead Priory, 76
- —— —— at Nottingham, 10
- —— VIII., 55, 58, 59
- Heron, Thomas, 98
- Herring-bone masonry, 18
- Herring, Richard, 334, 338
- Heskey, will of Alderman, 150
- Hethbeth Bridge, 173, 236
- Hicklin, John, 220
- Hickling of Cotgrave, George, 220–222
- Hickling, pre-Conquest coffin-lid at, 26
- —— tower, 52
- Hickman, Sir W., 172
- Highfield, 106
- Hill, A. Du Boulay, 125
- Hind, Edward, 226
- Hine, T. C., 142
- History of Newark, 101, 188
- History of Southwell, Shilton’s, 250, 262
- Hockerton Hill, 251
- Hodges, C. Clement, 128
- Hogg, Henry, 214, 215
- Holme, 93, 96, 97, 99, 102, 104
- —— Church, 45, 47
- —— screens, 137–138
- —— steeple, 280
- —— Pierrepoint, 198
- —— —— monuments, 50
- —— —— rood-stair, 138, 139
- —— —— steeple, 288, 293
- Holt, Richard, 328, 333, 334, 338
- Hooton, Charles, 226
- Hosiery trade of the shire, 10, 11
- Hospital, Nottingham General, 174
- —— of St. John in Nottingham, 235
- Hospitallers, 29
- Hospitals or almshouses, 55
- Hotham, Sir John, 170
- Hough-on-the-Hill tower, 52
- Hoveringham, carved tympanum at, 25
- —— spire, 292
- Howitt, Mary, 213, 214
- —— Richard, 213, 214
- —— William, 213, 214
- Hoybel Bridge, Nottingham, 235
- Hucknall, 60, 63, 298
- —— Broomhill charity, 69
- —— Torkard Church, 69
- Hudson, Dr., 190
- —— H., 162, 167
- Hundred Years War, 9
- Huntingdon, Earl of, 113
- Hutchinson, Col. John, 175, 176, 178, 180, 181, 182, 184, 191, 231
- —— family, 172

- Ice Age, 89, 91, 92
- Idle Valley, 5, 6, 92
- Industrial riots in the shire, 10
- Inns and public-houses connected with the forest and the chase, 119
- “Instructions to Commissioners of Array,” Charles’s, 174
- Insula, Brian de, 114
- Introduction of Christianity by St. Paulinus, 6
- Invention of the stocking-frame by Rev. William Lee, 10
- Inventory of the trees, Sherwood, 116
- Ireton, Henry, 172, 180, 191
- Iron trade of Nottingham, 9

- James I., 69, 260
- Jenyn, bequest of Elizabeth, 146
- Joan, Queen of Scots, 60
- John at Newark, death of, 8
- —— Nottingham Castle given to, 8
- —— Earl of Mortain, 60, 107, 111, 230
- John of Gaunt Sketch Book, 128
- —— of Hexham, 247
- Johnson, Dodsley publisher for, 200
- Jones, Inigo, 86
- Joynes, Lucy, 226
- Julius Firmicus, 246

- Kaye, Sir Richard, 72
- Keats, 207
- Kelham, 10, 90, 96, 98, 99, 100, 104, 105, 188, 190
- —— screen, 139, 140
- Keyworth arrow vane, 293
- —— rood-loft, 140, 141
- —— steeple, 51, 287, 290–292,
- King and Parliament, struggle between, 10
- Kingdomes Weekly Intelligencer, The, quoted, 177, 185
- King’s Sconce, 188
- Kingston, Duke of, 116
- —— Earl of, 171, 181
- —— first Earl of, 197, 198
- Kingston-on-Soar chantry chapel, 50
- —— —— screen, 141
- —— —— spire, 293
- Kinsi, Archbishop, 245
- Kirkby, 72
- —— Hardwick, 177
- —— in Ashfield Forest, 116
- —— —— spire, 276
- Kneesall, 303
- —— screen, 141
- Knibb, 324
- Knights Hospitallers preceptory, Ossington, 54
- Knights of St. John of Jerusalem at Nottingham, 232
- Knights Templars, 29

- Lace trade of the shire, 10, 11
- Lambley, 114
- —— screen, 141
- Laneham Church, 16, 28, 29
- —— —— herring-bone work in, 19
- —— tower, 25
- Langar screen, 141, 142
- —— tower, 37
- Langford, 91, 104
- Langton, Bishop Walter, 41
- La Warre chapel at Boxgrove, 50
- Lawley, 212
- Laxton, 108, 295, 296, 297
- —— clerestory, 47
- —— monuments, 49, 50
- —— screen, 142
- Layton, Dr., 57, 58
- Lee, Rev. William, inventor of the stocking-frame, 10
- Leen Valley, 92, 230, 237
- Legh, Dr., 57, 58
- Leicester, Peter de, 61
- Leland, 230, 231, 232,
- Lenton font, 26
- —— Forest, 117
- —— obligatory alms, 59
- —— Priory, 46, 54, 55, 56, 58, 59, 114, 232, 234, 308
- Leslie, General, 190
- Lester, Thomas, 224
- Leverton (North) rood-loft, 142
- —— South, 196
- —— —— screen, 142
- Lexington, Lord, 172
- —— Robert de, 113
- —— table-tomb, 49
- Liber Albus of Southwell, 248
- Libraries in Nottingham, Operatives’, 235
- Library, Artisans’, 235
- —— Mechanics’ Institution, 235
- —— Nottingham, Bromley House, 234
- —— Oddfellows’, 235
- —— People’s Hall, 235
- —— Public Free, 235
- —— Rancliffe Arms, 235
- —— Seven Stars, 235
- —— the Alderman Wood, 235
- Lichfield, 35, 40, 41, 202, 241
- Linby, 61, 62, 113, 119
- —— low side window, 304, 305
- —— tower, 52
- Lindsey, general-in-chief of the Royalist forces, 177
- Linen trade of Nottingham, 9
- Lineker, A., 167
- Lister Gate, Nottingham, 230
- List of priors, Newstead, 68
- Little John, 108
- “Little Sir John with the Big Beard,” 68, 73
- Littleborough, aisleless chapel, 25
- —— Church, herring-bone work in, 19
- —— Roman ferry at, 238
- Loans, forced, 169
- Lofts, roods, and screens, 124–167
- London, Dr. John, 66, 67
- Long Row, Nottingham, 229
- Longvilliers, Sir John de, 49
- Love, David, 226
- Lowdham Church, 16
- Lowdham rood, 142, 143
- —— tower, 288
- Low Marnham, 95, 96
- Low side windows, 295–305
- Lucas, Sir Charles, 182
- —— Sir Gervase, 188
- Ludham, Archbishop Geoffrey de, 63
- Lupus, Robert, 114
- Lynsfield, 106

- Magnus, Thomas, 146
- Major Oak, Sherwood, 118
- Malton Prior Church, 32
- Manchester, Earl of, quartered at Retford, 184
- Mansfield, 10, 13, 106, 107, 111, 113, 116, 118, 121, 184, 199, 256, 271
- —— Church, 16
- —— low side window, 304
- —— (St. Peter) tower, 25, 288
- —— stone, 288
- —— tokens, 317, 322
- —— William, Earl of, 121
- —— Woodhouse, 272, 279, 280
- Manvers, Earl, 123
- Maplebeck, 13, 271
- —— screen, 143
- —— spire, 279
- Marc, Philip, Constable of Nottingham Castle, 8, 110
- Markham, 191
- —— Gervase, 196
- —— of Cotham, Sir Robert, 196
- —— (East), screen, 143
- —— (West), screen, 143
- Marnham Church, 28, 29
- —— Holme, 101, 104
- Marshall, William, 327, 331, 338,
- Martin, John, 215
- Marton, 19
- Mary Gate, Nottingham, 229
- —— Queen, 259
- Mattersey Priory, 54
- —— tower, 52
- Maurice, Prince, 187
- Meadows, Nottingham, 233
- Melbourne, 113
- Meldrum, Sir John, 179, 180, 182, 183
- Mellish, Edward, 126
- Mellors, H. Bradbury, 226
- Mercia, 241, 242
- Mercian shire, 6
- Mering Chapel, Sutton-on-Trent, 159, 161
- Middleton, Lord, 77, 123
- Milbanke, Miss, 75
- Miller, Thomas, 209, 216, 220,
- Millhouse, Robert, 209, 212, 213, 214
- Millington, 191
- —— Gilbert, 172
- Minster, Southwell, 239–269
- Mints, Nottingham, 306–322
- Misterton Church, 16, 28, 29, 60
- —— steeple, 281
- Molineux, Sir Francis, 171
- Monasteries, churches appropriated to, 16
- —— suppression of the, 16
- Moneyers, Nottingham, 306–322
- Montgomery, James, 212
- Monuments, 49–51
- Morley spire, 37
- Mortain, John, Earl of, 60, 107, 111, 230
- Mortimer’s Hole, 230
- Morwent, Charles, 199
- Mullen, Samuel, 226
- Muskham, 93, 96, 98, 99, 104
- —— Bridge, 188
- —— (North) screen, 143, 144, 145
- —— (South) screen, 145
- Musters, J. P. Chaworth, 123

- Narrow Marsh, Nottingham, 93, 94
- Naseby, battle of, 185
- Navigation of the Trent, 2
- Nene Valley, 270
- Neolithic men, 3
- Newark, 3, 8, 10, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 41, 54, 55, 88, 91, 92, 93, 95, 97, 101, 102, 104, 105, 181, 182, 183, 184, 185, 186, 187, 188, 189, 190, 202, 222, 224, 241, 257, 263, 270, 294
- —— altar of St. Crux, 145
- —— attacked by Ballard, 176
- —— Bridge, 238
- —— Castle, 8, 191
- —— chantries, 48, 50
- —— Charles at, 170
- —— Church, 28, 30, 45, 46, 47
- —— —— herring-bone work in, 19
- —— —— vaulted crypt, 25
- —— clockmakers of, 323–338
- —— Friary House at, 328
- Newark garrisoned by Royalists, 176
- —— Grammar School, 146
- —— Mint, 307, 308
- —— Parish Church spire, 31, 37, 52, 284, 285
- —— Royalist meeting at, 175
- —— screen, 146–149
- —— siege pieces, 313–315
- —— strengthened, defences of, 177
- —— tokens, 318, 321
- —— treators for, 191
- —— wapentake of, 28, 29
- Newcastle, Duke of, 116, 117, 171, 176–178, 180, 181, 231
- New Park, 116, 121
- Newstead, 120
- —— Abbey token, 321
- —— home of Byron, 12
- —— Lord Byron of, 121
- —— obligatory alms, 59
- —— Priory, 35, 49, 54–76, 177, 203, 205
- Newton, 93
- —— Cliff, 101
- Nicholson, Richard, 165
- Nineteen Propositions of Parliament, 170
- Normanton-on-Soar spire, 276, 278, 286
- Normanton-on-Trent rood-stair, 149, 150
- Normanton, Prebendary of, 252
- North Clifton Church, 16
- —— Collingham Church, 28, 29
- Northfield, 106
- North Wheatley Church, 16
- Norton, J., 136
- Norwell rood-stair, 150
- Norwood Park, 262
- Nostell Priory, 65
- Notintone, 228
- Nottingham, 2, 3, 5, 7, 41, 55, 56, 59, 62, 88, 91, 92, 93, 94, 95, 96, 97, 105, 111, 116, 118, 120, 175, 178, 179, 180, 181, 183, 189, 190, 204, 208, 228–238, 247, 250, 262, 294, 306–322
- —— Borough Records, 1392, 100
- —— Castle, 7, 8, 109, 114, 173, 174, 176, 180, 181, 191, 229–231
- —— Charles at, 170, 173
- —— Franciscan Friars of, 114
- —— General Hospital, 174
- —— Parliamentarians occupy, 176
- —— premier of the Five Boroughs Confederacy, 7
- Nottingham regicides, 191
- —— roods, 150–152
- —— (St. Nicholas) spire, 292
- —— (St. Peter) spire, 37, 289
- —— standard raised at, 172, 174
- —— tokens, 317, 320, 322
- Nunnery, Broadholme, 54, 58
- —— Wallingwells, 54
- Nuthall screen, 152

- Oaks for the navy, Sherwood, 116
- —— from Sherwood used for St. Paul’s, 117
- Obligatory alms, 59
- Observants, Newark, 54
- Offa, 241
- Old and New Nottingham, 208
- Oldham, John, 197, 198, 199
- Operatives’ libraries, Nottingham, 235
- Ordsall Church, 29
- —— screen, 152, 153
- Orston Church, 16, 194
- Oskytel, Archbishop, 242, 243
- Ossington, 224
- —— preceptory, 54
- Over Colwick, 100
- Owthorpe, 175
- Oxton, pre-Conquest Church at, 19

- Page, Colonel, 185
- Paintings on Blyth Priory screens, 127–129
- Palæolithic Age, 92
- —— men, 3
- —— remains, 89
- Palladianism, 87
- Palmer, Ralph, 150
- —— Sir Matthew, 172
- Papplewick, 60, 63
- Parlby, 337
- Parliament Oak, Sherwood, 118
- —— treators for the, 191
- Parliamentarian families, 172
- Parliamentarians capture Nottingham Castle, 231
- Parliamentary army, weekly assessment of Notts for the, 171
- —— Committee of Leicester, 179
- Parrott, Samuel, 213
- Paulinus, 240
- Paumer, Alice le, 236
- —— John le, 236
- Penda of Mercia, 6
- Pennines, 89
- “Pentecostals,” 250
- Pepper of Morton, Robert, 142
- —— Street, Nottingham, 229
- Perfect Occurrences of Both Houses of Parliament, quoted, 191
- Perkins of Bunny, Sir George, 197
- Peter Gate, Nottingham, 229
- Peverel, William, Governor of Nottingham Castle, 7, 230, 232, 313
- —— the younger, William, 107
- Philipote, bequest of John, 146
- Pickering, E. G., 226
- Pierpoint, Henry, 197
- Pierrepont, Colonel, 181
- —— Francis, 171
- —— William, 172
- Piers Plowman, Vision of, 109
- Plantagenet, Geoffrey, 252, 253
- Plumfield, 106
- Plumtree, 55, 304
- —— pre-Conquest Church at, 19, 238
- —— tower, 25
- Pollok, 206
- Polyolbion, Drayton’s, 108
- Pope, Alexander, 198, 200
- Population of England at time of Civil War, 170
- —— of Nottingham, 233, 234
- Portland, Duke of, 123
- Potter’s Hill, 91
- Poverty in Nottingham, absence of, 9
- Poyntz, Major-General, 186, 187, 188, 189, 191
- Prebendary of Normanton, 252
- Pre-Conquest churches, 17, 19
- Priest, John and James, 335, 338
- Prior of Newstead, William the cellarer elected, 61
- —— of Thurgarton, 265
- Priors, list of Newstead, 68
- Priory, Blyth, 54–56, 58
- —— Felley, 177
- —— Lenton, 54–56, 58, 59, 114, 232, 308
- —— Newstead, 54–76, 177
- —— of St. Katherine, Gilbertine, 30
- —— Worksop, 15, 54, 57
- Public-houses called “White Hart,” 119
- Pygg, bequest of Thomas, 146
- Pym, 169
- Pyramid roofs, 273

- Quare, Daniel, 324
- Queen’s Sconce, 188

- Radcliffe, 91
- Radcliffe-on-Trent tower, 292
- Radford, 163, 234
- —— Forest, 117
- Ragg, 209, 212
- Ragnall, 96
- Raine, John, 126, 128, 129
- Rainworth, 6
- Rastall, 98
- Ratcliffe-on-Soar, 49, 51, 300
- —— —— spire, 277, 278
- “Rector’s Book” of Clayworth, 133
- Red deer, 107
- Rædwald of East Anglia, 6
- Reform Riots, 231
- Regicides of Nottingham, 191
- Repton, 241
- Retford, 29, 184
- —— token, 318, 319
- Reynolds, Sir Joshua, 201
- Rich, Sir Richard, 67
- Richard I., 107, 230, 253
- —— at Nottingham Castle, 8
- —— II., 62
- —— at Nottingham, 9
- —— III., at Nottingham, 9
- Richmond, herring-bone masonry at, 18
- Ridding, Bishop of Southwell, Dr., 267
- Robert, Prior of Newstead, 61, 63
- Robin Hood, 1, 108–110
- Robyn Hode, A Lyttel Geste of, 109
- Roche Church, 34
- Roger, Archbishop, 33
- Rolleston tower, 52
- Rolston, Launcelott, 100
- Roman arrival, 4
- —— bridge near Cromwell, 102
- —— ferry at Littleborough, 238
- —— pottery, 102
- —— stations, 5
- Romano-British period, 4, 5
- Romanus, Archbishop, 64
- Romeyne, Archbishop John le, 36, 38, 41, 251, 255
- Romsey, 24
- Roods, screens, and lofts, 124–167
- Rooke, Major, 117
- “Ropes, The,” Clifton Hill, 101
- Rose, Thomas, 163
- Ross, F. J., 157
- Rossiter, Colonel, 185, 186, 188, 189, 191
- Rotherham, Bishop, 142
- Royal Society, Francis Willoughby one of the first members of the, 77
- Royalist families, 171, 172
- Ruddington, 55
- —— spire, 292, 293
- Rufford Abbey, 54–56
- —— Abbot of, 112
- —— —— Doncaster of, 57, 112
- —— Park, 117, 120, 121, 123
- —— Sir George Savile of, 121
- Runnymede, 8
- Rupert, Prince, 177, 183, 185, 187
- —— at Queensborough, Prince, 174
- —— loses Bristol, Prince, 186
- Rushcliffe, hundred of, 270
- Russell, Lord John, 209
- Rutland, Earl of, 231
- Ryemouth family, 286

- Sacheverell tombs, Ratcliffe-on-Soar, 51
- Saddleback roofs, 273
- Sadler Gate, Nottingham, 229
- St. Alban’s, Snenton, 51
- St. Catherine’s Chapel rood, Nottingham Castle, 150
- St. Eadburg, 241, 242, 248
- St. Guthlac, 241
- St. James’ Church, Standard Hill, 233
- St. Katherine, Gilbertine Priory of, 15, 16, 30
- St. Mary, Trent Bridge, Chapel of, 236
- St. Mary’s Church, Nottingham, 12, 46, 47, 229, 231, 232
- —— Hill, 5
- —— rood, Nottingham, 150, 151
- St. Nicholas’ Church, Nottingham, 51, 182, 231, 232
- St. Paulinus, 6
- St. Peter’s, Nottingham, Chapel of the Holy Cross in, 151, 152
- —— Church, Nottingham, 231, 232
- —— —— spire, 37
- Sampson, William, 196, 197
- Sancto Egidio, John de, 61
- Saundby tower, 52
- Saureby, Christopher, 143
- Savage, Ralph, 72
- Savile, Lord, 123, 174, 178
- Savile of Rufford, Sir George, 121
- —— Sir John, 172
- Sawley spire, 37
- Saxon church, East Bridgford, 17
- —— times, 6
- Scaftworth, 6
- Scandinavian influence on sculpture, 26
- Scarle (South) screen, 153
- Scarrington spire, 292
- School, Nottingham Blue Coat, 234
- —— —— High, 234
- Scotch wars, 9
- Scots at Clipstone, King of the, 8
- Scott, Sir Gilbert, 31, 148
- Screens, roods, and lofts, 124–167
- Scrooby spire, 51, 290
- Sculptured arcades, 27
- Secular Canons, Southwell, 55
- Sedilia at Southwell, 42
- Selethryth, 242
- Shakespeare’s reference to the Trent, 102, 103
- Shambles Oak, Sherwood, 118
- Shapwick, 60
- Sheep Lane, Nottingham, 229
- Shelford, 187
- —— Abbey, 100
- —— Manor, 177
- —— Mint, 308
- —— obligatory alms, 59
- —— Priory, 54
- —— screen, 153
- Shenstone, 200, 202
- Sherbourne, 186
- Sherwood Forest, 2, 6, 8, 9, 56, 60, 63, 100, 106–123, 194, 256, 281
- Shilton, R. P., 224
- Shipman, Thomas, 197, 198
- —— William, 197
- —— of Scarrington, William, 197
- Ship-money, 169
- Shrewsbury, Countess of (“Bess of Hardwick”), 197
- Shuttered low side windows, 296–301
- Sibthorpe, 55
- —— chancel, 41, 42, 43, 44
- —— chantry, 48
- —— Easter sepulchre, 42, 43
- —— founder’s tomb, 49
- —— rood, 154
- —— Thomas, 43
- —— tower, 52
- Sidnaceaster, 241
- Siege pieces, Newark, 313–315
- Simnel at Nottingham, Lambert, 10
- Simpson of Southwell, William, 333
- Siward, 7
- Sketchley, Richard Foster, 222–224
- Smith, Edward, 330, 338
- —— Sir Thomas, 172
- —— Sophia Mary, 214
- —— William Frank, 218–219
- —— William Powers, 226
- Smithson of Bolsover, John, 78, 80, 82,
- Smithy (Smeemus) Marsh, 101
- —— Row, Nottingham, 229, 233
- Smythson, Robert, 78, 79, 80, 83, 85, 86
- Snart, Charles, 224
- Snenton, 228, 234
- —— Church, 229
- —— Hermitage, 229
- Snotingaham, 228
- Soane Museum, 78
- Soar, banks of the, 271
- Sookholme, aisleless chapel, 25
- Southampton, Earl of, 174
- South, Archdeacon, 67
- South Clifton Hill, 93, 101, 104
- South Collingham Church, 26, 27, 29
- Southey, Robert, 212, 213
- Southfield, 106
- South Leverton Church, 16, 28–30
- South Muskham Church, herring-bone work in, 19
- —— —— tower, 52
- —— Scarle Church, 16, 26, 27
- —— Sutton Holme, 101
- Southwell chantry, 48
- —— chapter house, 38, 39, 40, 44
- —— Collegiate Church of, 12, 13, 14, 16
- —— corbel table of, 26
- —— Feast week, 250, 251
- —— Minster, 20, 21, 22, 25, 28, 32–35, 41, 43, 54, 55, 72, 190, 191, 214, 239–269, 273, 331
- —— pulpitum, 40, 44, 154–157, 167
- —— sedilia at, 42
- —— token, 318
- —— towers, 25
- Spalford, 93, 94, 104
- Speech to citizens of Newark, Charles’s, 170
- Spigurnel, Gilbert, 114
- Spires, steeples, and towers, 270–294
- Spring Gardens Sketch-Book, The, 136
- Stacey of Farnsfield, Thomas, 330, 331
- Stamford, 190
- Standard Hill, Nottingham, 232
- Standfast, Rev. Dr., 234
- Stanford-on-Soar, 297
- Stanhope, John, keeper of Thorneywood, 120
- —— Lord, 187
- Stapleford, 36, 63
- —— tower, 288
- Statham, H. H., 156
- Staunton monuments, 50
- —— screen, 157
- Stephen, 307, 312
- —— civil war in reign of, 8
- Stocking-frame, invention by Rev. William Lee of the, 10
- Stoke, 55, 189
- Stoke-by-Newark Church, 16
- Stone from Roche Abbey, 290
- Stone pulpitum, Southwell, 40, 44
- Stone quarried at Nottingham, 9
- Stoney Street, Nottingham, 229
- Strafford, 169
- Street, G. E., 156
- Strelley screen, 157–159
- —— table tomb, 50
- Strength of Charles in the north and west, 171
- Strength of Parliamentarians in south and east, 171
- Stretton, William, 124, 132, 134, 135, 141, 143, 153, 163
- Sturton-le-Steeple Church, 16, 27
- —— screen, 159
- —— tower, 52
- Stuteville, John de, 113
- Suppression of the monasteries, 16
- Surflett, Stephen, 99
- Sussex tower, Newstead, 70
- Sutton Bonington (St. Michael) steeple, 288
- Sutton-cum-Lound with Scrooby Church, 30
- Sutton, H. Septimus, 216, 217
- Sutton-in-Ashfield, 213, 331, 333
- —— Forest, 116
- —— steeple, 288
- Sutton-on-Trent Church, 336
- Sutton-on-Trent screen, 159–162
- Sutton, Robert de, 62
- —— St. Ann’s, 303
- “Swaynmote,” 113
- Swinderby, 91

- Tamworth Castle, 19
- —— herring-bone masonry at, 18
- Taxation Roll of 1291, 61
- Taylor, Ann, 220
- —— Isaac, 212
- Thomas of Bayeux, 244, 245, 246
- —— of Beverley, 247–251
- Thoresby Park, 116, 117, 122
- Thorney Park, 120
- Thorneywood, 120, 121, 122
- Thornhaugh, Colonel, 184
- —— of Fenton, Sir Francis, 171, 172
- Thoroton, 194, 197
- —— Church, 26
- —— Robert, 53, 262, 263, 272
- —— spire, 37, 285–287
- Thorpe, John, 78–86
- Throsby, 98
- Thurgarton, 12, 101, 177, 184
- —— obligatory alms, 59
- —— Prior of, 265
- —— Priory Church, 31, 33, 34, 54
- —— tower, 37
- —— William de, 62
- Tickhill Castle, 16
- —— tower, 52
- Tiguocobauc, 228
- Timber of Sherwood Forest, 114, 115
- Tiovulfingacester, 240
- Tokens, 316–322
- Tombs and effigies, 49–51
- Tompion, 324
- Torksey, 93
- —— Mint, 308
- Towers, steeples, and spires, 270–294
- Trades of Nottingham, 9
- Trafford, Robert de, 142
- Trained bands, 171
- Treators for Newark, 191
- —— for the Parliament, 191
- Trees, inventory of the, 116
- Trent, 2, 5, 6, 12, 28, 30, 88–105
- —— banks of the, 271
- —— Bridge, 96, 182–185, 235–238
- —— crossing at Nottingham, 235
- —— reaches of the, 194, 195
- Trevelyan, G. M., 169
- Trollope, E., 165
- Truman, Joseph, 215, 216
- Tuxford, 13, 55, 63, 184, 271
- —— chancel, 47, 48
- —— screen, 167
- —— spire, 51, 288
- —— stone, 289
- Tympanum, Everton carved, 25
- —— Hoveringham carved, 25

- Unwin, Matthew, 225
- —— William, 328, 329, 333, 338
- Upton, 19
- —— tower, 52, 292, 294
- Uvedale, Sir William, 174

- Vale of Belvoir, 13
- Vanes, 293, 294
- Venables, Piers, 109
- Vescy, Sir William de, 112
- Vienne, Hugh de, 61
- Vikings, invasions of the, 6
- Vision of Piers Plowman, 109

- Wade of Staythorpe, R., 335, 336
- Wainwright of Bunny, Humphrey, 332, 333
- Wakefield, Gilbert, 220
- Walesby Church, 16
- —— tower, 273
- Walkelin, Henry, 61
- Walkeringham, 60
- —— chancel, quarter of repairs charged to Vicar, 15
- —— Richard de, 65
- Walks Round Nottingham, 153
- Waller, 198
- Wallingwells nunnery, 54
- —— obligatory alms, 59
- Wapentake of Newark, 14
- Wars of the Roses, 9
- Wath Bank, 93, 104
- Weaver, William, 335, 338
- Webb, John, 86
- —— W. F., 70
- Weekly Account, quoted, 184, 185
- Weekly assessment of Notts for the Parliamentary army, 171
- Weightman, J. G., 129
- Welbeck Abbey, 54–57, 59, 117, 177, 184, 186, 187
- —— obligatory alms, 59
- —— Park, 117, 123
- Welby Park, 119
- West Bridgeford, 97, 237
- West Drayton tower, 52
- Western towers, 31
- West Leake, 19, 25
- —— —— monuments, 49, 50
- West Markham Church, 16
- Weston spire, 51, 288
- —— William, 334, 338
- West Retford spire, 37, 51, 289, 290
- Whalley, Edward, 172, 180, 191
- Whatton-in-the-Vale, 47, 298
- —— —— steeple, 286
- Whatton tombs, 49, 50
- Wheeler Gate, Nottingham, 229, 230
- White Friars at Nottingham, 232
- —— Henry Kirke, 193, 194, 203, 206–208, 216
- —— Lodge, 116
- —— or Premonstratensian Abbey, Welbeck, 54–57, 59
- —— Nunnery, Broadholme, 54, 58
- “Whitsun farthings,” 250
- Whitworth, R. H., 70, 71
- Wickwaine, Archbishop, 64
- Wildman, Colonel, 70
- Wilfield, 106
- Wilford, 173, 303
- —— Bridge, 238
- —— rood-stair, 163
- William I., 311
- —— at Nottingham, 7
- —— rebuilds Nottingham Castle, 230
- —— II., 311
- —— III., 336
- —— Earl of Mansfield, 121
- —— the cellarer, Prior of Newstead, 61
- Williamson, Sir Thomas, 172
- Willis, Sir Richard, 186, 187
- Willoughby, Mistress Anne, 197
- —— of Parham, Lord, 179
- —— of Risley, Sir Henry, 196, 197
- Willoughby-on-the-Wolds, 191
- —— chantry, 48
- Willoughby-on-the-Wolds, effigies, 49
- —— screen, 163
- —— spire, 278
- Willoughby, Percival, 77, 86
- —— Richard, 48, 49
- —— Sir Francis, 77, 78, 79, 84, 86
- —— Sir T., 172
- Will Scarlett, 108
- Windows, low side, 295–305
- Winkburn tympanum, 163
- Winthorpe, 91, 104, 188
- Witham, 37
- Witton of Norwell, F., 332, 333
- Wiverton Hall, 177, 178, 187
- Woden, 109
- Wollaton arrow vane, 293
- —— chantry, 48, 49
- —— Church, 78
- —— Hall, 77–87
- —— Park, 117, 123
- —— steeple, 287
- —— table tomb, 50
- Wolsey, 10
- —— at Southwell, 257
- Wood, Anthony, 194
- Woodborough chancel, 41, 43, 44
- —— tower, 52
- Woollen trade of Nottingham, 9
- Worde, Winken de, 109
- Worksop obligatory alms, 59
- —— Priory, 15, 28, 34, 42, 54, 57, 77, 110, 111
- —— —— screen, 163–165
- —— —— towers, 25
- —— token, 318
- Wren, Sir Christopher, 117
- Wright, Ichabod Charles, 220
- —— John, 226
- Wyld, John, 332
- Wylleby, Robert de, 62
- Wysall screen, 165–167
- —— tower, 288, 289, 294

- Yates, Simon, 157

Printed by Ballantyne, Hanson & Co.
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Sketch Map of Nottinghamshire.

## Selections from
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## FOOTNOTES:

[1] York Epis. Reg. Wickwane, f. 79 (Surtees Soc. vol. cxiv. ed. Brown, p. 290).

[2] York Epis. Reg. Kempe, f. 37 d.

[3] Viz., Harworth, Lowdham, East and West Markham, Walesby, and North Wheatley. These, before they were granted to Westminster, were regarded as members of the free chapel in Tickhill castle.

[4] The dean and chapter held the churches of Edwinstowe and Orston. The dean was parson of Mansfield and South Leverton. The chancellor held the church of Stoke-by-Newark as a prebend; and the churches of North Clifton, Farndon with Balderton, and South Searle formed separate prebends.

[5] The churches belonging to this body are mentioned below. The dean and chapter of York held East Drayton, Laneham, Misterton, and Sturton-le-Steeple. Bole and Habblesthorpe were prebends in York minster.

[6] Memorials of Old Lincolnshire, 1911, pp. 53–80 (“Saxon Churches in Lincolnshire”).

[7] The two western responds of the Norman presbytery are in situ.

[8] The arches, however, were probably not turned until some advance had been made with the nave. The capitals of the eastern piers are much earlier in character than those of the western.

[9] The aisles were probably set out before the nave arcades were begun, but the walls were not raised till later.

[10] The best and most refined example of twelfth-century sculpture in the county is the font at Lenton. This, however, hardly comes within the scope of architecture; the same thing may be said of the pre-Conquest coffin-lid at Hickling.

[11] Marnham was appropriated to the Knights Templars, and passed on their suppression to the Hospitallers.

[12] The church was not appropriated to Peterborough till long after the thirteenth century. The licence bears date 1499, 20 April (Pat. 14 Hen. vii., pt. 2).

[13] E.g. at Sherburn-in-Elmet and Campsall.

[14] It should also be noted that the west front and towers at Ripon were added at this period to Archbishop Roger’s aisleless nave there.

[15] The same arrangement is found in the eastern bay of each aisle.

[16] At the same time, it may be noted that the elevation of the quire at Southwell appears to owe something to western, rather than northern influence.

[17] For reasons determining this date, see Memorials of Old Lincolnshire, pp. 144, 145.

[18] Thomas Dalton, consecrated 1294, 10th Oct. (Stubbs, Registrum Sacrum Anglicanum, 2nd ed., 1897, p. 68).

[19] The corbel-table of carved heads below the parapet should be noticed. This feature is very usual in the neighbouring county of Leicester.

[20] He was a Leicestershire man by birth, but was related to William of Rotherfield, dean of York, and to Archbishop Walter de Gray. He was a prebendary of York, was beneficed in more than one place in York diocese, and was master of St. Leonard’s hospital at York.

[21] Licence bears date 1316, 4th Aug. (Pat. 10 Edw. II., pt. 1, m. 31). The actual appropriation, however, did not take place until 1349, by deed of 28th March in that year (York Epis. Reg. Zouche, ff. 124 d., 125). A vicarage was ordained on 24th September (ibid., f. 141).

[22] The north chapel of the chancel was “newly built” by 23rd Oct. 1325. See Pat. 19 Edw. II. pt. 1, m. 20, and cf. m. 12. See Vict. Hist. Notts. ii. 150–52, and Dugdale (ed. Caley, &c.) vi. 1369, 1370.

[23] See Pat. 21 Edw. III. pt. 3, m. 10 (20th Nov. 1347). There is much in common between the window-tracery at Beckingham and that in the chapel east of the north transept at Southwell.

[24] Licence bears date 1343, 10th July (Pat. 17 Edw. III. pt. 2, m. 31).

[25] A chantry was founded in Heckington church by licence bearing date 1311, 28 April (Pat. 4 Edw. II. pt. 2, m. 17). Rebuilding may have been begun by that time. The founder was presented to the rectory in 1309–10.

[26] H. B. M’Call, Richmondshire Churches, 1910, has dealt at length with this group of Yorkshire chancels.

[27] Licence bears date 1337, 2nd Sept. (Pat. 11 Edw. III. pt. 3 m. 39).

[28] The account of Newark Church, by T. M. Blagg, F.S.A., in his valuable handbook to Newark, Hawton, and Holme, contains a plan of the building, and traces its architectural development very clearly.

[29] This chronology is indicated by internal evidence. It follows a very usual method of rebuilding, in which the aisles were first built outside the older nave, and the new nave begun when they were finished. Thus the old fabric was kept in use as long as possible.

[30] A large number of licences occur on the Edw. III. Pat. Rolls. Fourteen chantry priests are enumerated in Chantry Certificates, Roll 13 (14–27); fifteen in Roll 37 (48 b-p).

[31] The licence for the foundation of Richard Willoughby’s chantry at Willoughby bears date 1324, 16 Nov. (Pat. 18 Edw. II. pt. 1, m. 8). See also Chantry Certificates, Roll 13 (1); 37 (18).

[32] Chantry Certificates, Roll 13 (43 c); 37 (106 a2). In Roll 13 the altar is said to be of our Lady and St. Cuthbert. It seems to have been originally dedicated to our Lady of Grace.

[33] Licence bears date 1476, 24 Oct. (Pat. 16 Edw. IV. pt. 1, m. 6); Chantry Certificates, Roll 13 (3); 37 (14).

[34] See Blagg, Guide to Newark, &c., p. 85, for the evidence. No licence exists.

[35] Licence bears date 1470, 13 Dec. (Pat. 49 Hen. VI. m. 16); Chantry Certificates, Roll 13 (50); 37 (3).

[36] Licences of 1351, 6 Nov. (Pat. 25 Edw. III. pt. 3, m. 16) and 1356–57, 8 Feb. (Pat. 31 Edw. III. pt. 1, m. 25); Chantry Certificates, Roll 13 (36, 37); 37 (71 a, b). See also Dugdale, vi. 1370.

[37] For the chantry here, see Chantry Certificates, Roll 13 (4), 37 (25).

[38] “The master of the infirmary ought to have mass celebrated daily for the sick, either by himself or by some other person, should they in any wise be able to come into the chapel; but if not he ought to take his stool and missal and reverently at their bedsides make the memorials of the day, of the Holy Spirit, and of Our Lady; and if they cannot sing the canonical hours for themselves, he ought to sing them for them, and frequently in the spirit of gentleness repeat to them words of consolation, of patience, and of hope in God; read to them, for their consolation, lives of Saints; conceal from them all evil rumours; and in no wise distress them when they are resting” (Willis Clark, Customs of the Augustinian Canons, 205).

[39] Narratives of the Reformation, p. 35. (Camden Society.)

[40] These notes as to the haunting of the priory are taken from Mr. Whitworth’s memoranda.

[41] There seems to be no doubt that the relief of the county, except for the deep Vale of Trent, was then similar to what it is now, but it has been considerably lowered by denudation.

[42] Upon the wall of a house in Girton village there is the following record by G. Porter:—

[43] From account in a local journal, 1875.

[44] The Nottingham Evening Post, December 5, 1910.

[45] For further details on the above subject see articles by the author in the Geographical Journal for May 1910, and the Transactions of the Thoroton Society for 1910, from which the above article has been largely compiled. Other references may be found in the publications of the Geological Survey, in Wake’s History of Collingham, Brown’s History of Newark, Rastall’s (Dickinson) History of the Antiquities of Newark, Padley’s Fens and Floods of Mid-Lincolnshire, The Victoria County History of Nottingham, The Nottingham Borough Records, &c., &c.

[46] Cox’s Royal Forests of England, pp. 219–20.

[47] The inns and public-houses of Nottinghamshire of to-day reflect in a remarkable manner its former close connection with the forest and the chase, especially throughout the Sherwood Forest half of the county. There are three Red Harts (one of them absurdly corrupted into Red Heart), eleven White Harts, one White Hind, one Stag, two Horse and Stag, and two Horse and Pheasant. As to hounds, there are nine Greyhounds, three Talbots, and eight Foxhounds. The monarch trees of Sherwood Forest are commemorated in two Greendale Oaks, a Major Oak, a Parliament Oak, and twenty-two Royal Oaks. There are three Forest Taverns, one Forest Grove, a Foresters’ Arms, and two Royal Foresters. It is also worth while to note that there are twelve Robin Hoods, and two Robin Hood and Little Johns.

[48] Cox, English Monasteries, pp. 78–79.

[49] Between 1684 and 1689, Edward Mellish, proprietor of the confiscated estate of the Priory, built himself a pew in the north aisle, “cutting pier and capital and window in the most wanton manner, taking up one entire arch of the nave with his steps,” and “projecting his pew far in advance into the nave through another arch.” There is now no sign of this pew, but it would seem to have been identical with the “private gallery” referred to by Raine in 1860.

[50] Probably Rowland Hacker.

[51] On August 2 Welbeck had surrendered to the Earl of Manchester, who was marching south after the victory at Marston Moor.

[52] As Sidnaceaster was annexed by Offa to the short-lived Lichfield Archbishopric (787–803), the whole of Nottinghamshire must have belonged to that province during these years; but as under Ceolwulf the condition of affairs before 787 was restored, this does not affect the question.

[53] A.S. Chron. (ed. Earle and Plummer, p. 68).

[54] See Thomas of York, an essay by W. E. Hodgson.

[55] Vide Trans. of Thoroton Society, vol. i. (1897), p. 44, and The Church Times (Jan. 11, 1900), p. 51.

[56] In my essay on Thomas II. of York, I have tried to outline the reasons which would induce Edgar to confirm the gift of his brother, and also the reasons the King would have for making the gift as valuable as possible in the eyes of the Archbishop (pp. 13, 14).

[57] The part of the charter which defines the boundaries of the land is written in Anglo-Saxon, and is obscure.

[58] Southwell was all one parish up to about sixty years ago.

[59] Alcuin of York, p. 82, note.

[60] Leach, Memorials of Southwell Minster, Introd. p. xxii.

[61] Historians of the Church of York and its Archbishops: Edited by Canon Raine (Rolls Series), vol. ii. p. 353.

[62] England under the Normans and Angevins: H. W. C. Davis, p. 190.

[63] William of Newburgh, Historia Rerum Anglicanum, book ii. chap. 3. (In Chronicles of Stephen, Henry II, and Richard I. Rolls Series.)

[64] The Visitation Charge of the Archdeacon of Nottingham, delivered at Southwell in May 1909.

[65] Mr. Francis Bond’s opinion, quoted in Life of Thomas II., by W. E. Hodgson, p. 86.

[66] Ibid., p. 87.

[67] Roger de Hoveden (sub anno 1189).

[68] Ibid. (sub anno 1190).

[69] Roger de Hoveden (sub anno 1194).

[70] Quoted from the Rev. A. Dimock’s Guide to Southwell Cathedral, p. 91.

[71] Cavendish, Life of Wolsey (Temple Classics, p. 181).

[72] Memorials of Southwell Minster, Introduction, p. lxviii.

[73] Dimock, Guide to Southwell Cathedral, p. 115.

[74] Dimock, ibid., p. 115.

[75] Livett, An Account of the Cathedral Church of Southwell, p. 33.

[76] Livett, ibid.: Quotation from State Papers, 1604, Add. Ch. 15,241 Brit. Mus.

[77] The important MSS. in the Library, besides the White Book, consist of Chapter Decree Books, which start about the middle of the fifteenth century, and with some considerable number of years omitted, go down to 1840. There is also a book of leases and other documents.

[78] Quoted by Mr. Dimock, op. cit. p. 129.

[79] Dimock, op. cit. p. 124.

[80] “South Prospect of Nottingham, taken from Wilford Pasture beyond the Trent,” by Thomas Sandby, R.A., 1721–1798. Nottingham Castle Art Museum, Gallery F.

[81] “Be it had in mynd that the Towne of Maunsfeld Wodhouse was burned, the Saturdaye nexte afore the Fest of Exaltation of the holy Crosse, the yere of our Lord MCCCIIII., and the Kirke Stepull with the Bells of the same, for the Stepull was afore of Tymber werke: and part of the Kyrk was burned” (Thoroton, Antiquities of Nottinghamshire, p. 273).

[82] The church was destroyed by fire on 2nd July 1706.

[83] The Anglo-Saxon verb “getimbrade” (made of wood), became so familiar in the vernacular, that we find in documents the expression “to getimbrian a church of stone”—i.e., literally to make of wood a stone church. Nor was this altogether a misnomer, for the motif of the carpenter was adopted in the earlier attempts at masoncraft.

[84] The fine illustrations of Newark and Bingham are reproduced by permission of B. T. Batsford from Francis Bond’s Gothic Architecture in England.

[85] Whatton and Normanton-on-Soar are the only central steeples in the county. The remainder are all at the west end.

[86] The spire is shown with crockets in early pictures of Nottingham down to 1845, when for the first time it is represented as it now stands plus the pinnacles, portions of which lie in the churchyard at the base of the tower.

[87] An example can still be seen at Scarning church, Norfolk.

[88] “And he sall make a windowe on the same side, of two lightes, and a botras accordaunt thereto on the same side. And the forsaide Richarde sall make then a quere dore on wheder side of the botras that it will best be, and a windowe of two lightes anense the deskes.”—Endenture Ecclesie de Catrik (Yorks), A.D. 1412.

[89] Tompion and Graham lie in Westminster Abbey as the fathers of English clockmaking, while Knibb was clockmaker to William III., and Quare was the inventor, among other things, of the repeating watch.

[90] In the case of the late Mr. Harston, the organ builder, this process was reversed. Being apprenticed to a clock and organ maker, he left the clock trade for that of the piano and organ, and founded the business so successfully carried on at present by his son.

Transcriber’s Notes:
1. Obvious printers’, punctuation and spelling errors have been corrected silently.
2. Some hyphenated and non-hyphenated versions of the same words have been retained as in the original.

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