and greyhounds (i.e., badger hounds), and leading me by, into the meadows, he shewed me certain of the great deer of the chase, such as he kept rather for show than to be hunted.” These would be the red deer (cervus elaphus) still existing then on Hatfield chase, in the northwest of the county, in considerable numbers. The deer broke away into Mr. Welby’s woods, and “thence, as my lord affirmed, with an oath, into the mouths of the Saviles.” Lord Clinton’s attendants followed the hounds, Lord Clinton himself not doing so; but, in passing along a lane, he encountered some of the Savile followers, “in number 20 or 24, the more part having swords, bucklers, and daggers, some pyked staves, one a cross-bowe with an arrowe, another a long bowe and arrows.” While words were being exchanged “ould Mr. Savile” came up, and the following characteristic dialogue ensued. “My Lord Clinton, yf thou be a man, light, and fight with me.” “With thee, bastardlye knave,” quoth my lord, “I will deal with thee well enough, and teach thee, knave, thy duty.” Upon which words Mr. Savile called my lord “a cowardly knave.” Challenges passed between them, and with Sheffield Savile, who, withdrawing, as he says, Lord Clinton by the arm, called out after him, “You a lord, you are a kitchen boy.” Sir Robert, after their departure, having got hold of one of Lord Clinton’s dogs, meant, Metham says, “to use it with like courtesy as my lord has done his.” Lord Clinton then approached Poolham Hall, and a challenge passed, through John Savile, to fight six to six, “which by good entreaty was stayed.” Savile says, [144] in his narrative, that the followers of Lord Clinton were entertained at Horncastle, the same day, with a buck; and getting hold of an unfortunate tailor, some ten or twelve of them drew their swords and sore wounded him, saying he should “have that, and more, for his master’s sake, Mr. Sheffield Savile.”
The Lansdown MSS. give details of other violent proceedings of Lord Clinton towards the Saviles; how he over-ran the lands of Poolham with 60 men, armed with guns, cross-bows, and long bows; how he ill-treated their servants sent to Tattershall on domestic errands; incited the neighbours to send challenges to them; how he tried to entice into his park the younger Saviles, and laid ambushes for them; and various other proceedings which he would not for a moment
have tolerated in anyone else. It redounds, indeed, to the credit of the Saviles that Poolham was not made the scene of retaliation and bloodshed. [145]
In 1600 Sir John Savile sold Poolham to George Bolles, Esq. Of the Bolles family I have been able to find but scanty mention. Among Lincolnshire Gentry who supplied demy-lances and light horse, at the Louth Sessions, March, 1586–7, Charles Bolles is named as “Captaine,” furnishing “ij. horse”; and Richard Bolles “ij launces” and “ij horse”; while Richard Bowles, which is probably the same name, is mentioned along with Sir Willm. Skipwith, Mr. Willm. Fitzwilliam, and Mr. Andrewe Gedney, Sir William’s son-in-law, as the officials who presided at the “Spittle Sessions,” i.e., at Spittal in the Street, near Kirton in Lindsey.
The last of this family to occupy Poolham was Sir John Bolles, Bart., who conveyed it to Sir Edmund Turnor of Stoke Rochford. Sir John Bolles is connected with the pretty and interesting legend and ballad of “The Green Lady of Thorpe Hall,” which was his chief residence. The ballad is among Percy’s “Reliques,” and records how, while serving in Spain, the knight made captive a noble Spanish lady, who fell in love with her captor; but he had to check and chill her advances, in this language:—
“Courteous ladye, leave this fancy,
Here comes all that breeds the strife;
I in England have already
A sweet woman to my wife.”
To which, after craving pardon for her offence, she replies,
“Commend me to thy lovely lady,
Bear to her this chain of gold;
And these bracelets for a token:
Grieving that I was so bold.
All my jewels, in like sort, take thou with thee,
They are fitting for thy wife but not for me.”
The tradition, confirmed in recent years in correspondence by connections of the family (see notes to ballad, “The Spanish Lady’s Love,” vol. ii., p. 144, ed. 1848) affirms that, on Sir John leaving Spain for home, the lady “sent as presents to his wife, a profusion of jewellery and other valuables,” with a portrait of herself dressed in green. Hence she was named “the Green Lady.” It was said that she haunted Thorpe Hall, that her apparition was occasionally seen, and that it was long the custom
to have a plate laid for her at this table at mealtime. That this story does not belong entirely to the region of fiction is proved by the fact, known to the writer, and, doubtless, to many others, that a lady in this neighbourhood possesses, and at times wears on her person, one article from the “Green Lady’s” gift of jewellery.