There is a house in Lincoln called John of Gaunt’s Stables, but it is said that it ought more properly to be called his palace, and whether it was his or not seems by some persons to be disputed; one thing, however, is certain, it is an extremely valuable relic, and, though it is in a shocking state of neglect, the rooms may be easily traced. “Fronting the street we have a round archway that immediately arrests attention, a very fine one of the period. The upper storey is gone, that contained the chief apartments; the lower is only lighted by loopholes, as usual; we pass under the archway, and in its sullen shade dungeon-like portals appear on each side. But the archway admits us to a quadrangle or square court, round the sides of which are hidden, as it were, the stables, a sort of long, low, vaulted, and pillared hall, and the various offices, all of a gloomy confined character, that belonged to such an establishment. It has been thought that the idea of such specimens of domestic architecture might be improved in our palaces, that of concealing all the miscellaneous rooms round enclosed courtyards, and placing the principal apartments connectedly on one grand storey over the ground-floor, and thus the custom, originally prompted by danger, might be made, with modification, to promote harmony and convenience.” The account just quoted says, “Another feature in the Norman residences was the movable staircase on the outside of the house.” This is even yet continued in some of the old farms in Cheshire. I have seen the labourers go to their loft to sleep, and the farmer remove the staircase regularly each night. Surely the necessity for such a precaution has long passed away, as now labourers may rest as securely in any part of England as if they were in barracks. This custom, however, I have repeatedly seen, certainly within the last twenty years.
Another palace, said to be John of Gaunt’s, is still remaining at Gainsborough, in this county. It is used as a corn exchange, assembly rooms, mechanics’ institute, and part of it is a spacious smithy. There is a large amount of “post and petrel” work, as it is called, or oak and plaster, but there is also some magnificent brickwork, which of course in every way fulfils the requirements of design already spoken of for this material. The octagonal tower, of brick, is beautifully designed, and indeed the enormous buildings bristle over with nearly every kind of device to please. The window, which forms a tailpiece to this chapter, is a splendid piece of work, but evidently rather later than John of Gaunt. This quiet old country town, that is nothing but an agricultural mart now, has seen some stirring times. Sweyne, the King of Denmark, sailed up the Humber and Trent, and landed at Gainsborough, remaining in the neighbourhood for two years, and only being bribed with difficulty to go away; nor did the marauders remain more than one year absent. Alfred the Great was married here in 868; and in 1643 Cromwell routed the Royalists under the command of General Cavendish, the brother of the Duke of Newcastle.
Grantham is an important town on the Witham.
The church is one of the most beautiful in England, and the spire rises to the height of 274 feet from the ground. The Grammar School, here engraved, was founded by Bishop Fox of Winchester in 1528, and within its walls Sir Isaac Newton was educated, nor does his career seem to have been very brilliant as a scholar, at any rate for the first part of his time there.
Stamford is a town of great antiquity, and is situated on the Welland; its south side reaches over the border into Northampton. The name is said to be derived from “Stean-forde,” as the ford which crossed the Welland here was paved with stones. Stamford was the meeting place of several parliaments in the fourteenth century, and there were no less than five monasteries there. Gables figure in great variety and shapeliness here, and afford many studies for an architect. The streets are irregular, but well paved and very clean, and the town reminds one generally of an old city on the Rhine; quaint fronts crowd each other down to the water’s edge, and the red-tiled roofs break through in pleasing variety. These are reflected in the river, and interspersed with trees and gardens.
The description of a ride into Stamford in Nicholas Nickleby is very graphic. The scene is supposed to be at night, when the snow was
