Cory Santos

By Cory Santos corysantos

Most of us are familiar with the Lincoln Imp, the mischievous, sinister but somehow likeable mascot of the city. Its figure adorns t-shirts, coffee mugs and even little figurines which can be hung up around the house (including one prominently displayed in my kitchen). It may be surprising, however, that the imp — to many the most identifiable representation of Lincoln — is not only found just in our city but was quite prevalent around the country. One such example is in Grimsby, the story of which I will now share.

The imp at Lincoln Cathedral

There are many tales regarding the mysterious origins of the Lincoln Imp, so for the sake of simplicity I will stick to the one which I find most entertaining. According to the legend (some time in the 13th or 14th century), the devil spawned a pair of mischievous imps to wreak havoc upon the north of England. According to the tale, the imps first attacked Chesterfield, where they wreaked havoc upon the parish church of St. Mary’s, where they twisted the church’s famous spire to its present shape.

They then continued their path of mayhem in Lincoln, entering the cathedral where they began to make a mess of it, turning over furniture, tripping up the Bishop and throwing things about. It was during this time that the angel of The Lord, removing itself from the Bible upon the altar, commanded the imps to halt their wicked ways. One of the creatures, fearful of the angel, duly hid under the altar. The other, however, mocked the angel and began throwing stones at it. The angel, in a fit of anger, cast a spell upon the imp instantly turning it to stone.

According to some tales, this second imp was later frozen in stone by the angel and can be seen on the southern side of Lincoln Cathedral. According to others, however, this second imp was said to have travelled to Grimsby where it entered St James’ Church and began repeating its destructive behaviour. The angel then reappeared and gave the mischievous creature’s backside “a good thrashing” before turning it too into stone.

The Grimsby Imp can still be seen in St. James’ Church clutching its sore bottom.

This story is an enjoyable and fanciful explanation for these two carvings of demonic imps, but the real reason for their existence is much more mysterious and possibly intertwined with paganism. While they may now be best identified with Lincoln (the figures are widely known as ‘Lincoln Imps’ and replicas adorn Lincoln College, Oxford in honour), the figure of the imp is much more common than one may initially think.

A carved imp in the priest’s room at the Mary’s Church in Beverley.

Besides the figures in the Cathedral and St James’s Church in Grimsby, similar Imps can be seen in the masonry of buildings across northern England and Scotland. Other prominent examples include St Mary’s church in Beverley, East Yorkshire, St. Vigean’s church in Arbroath, Scotland and wooden carvings of the creatures in Stirling Castle. Imps were, in fact, an extremely popular door knocker amongst Britons well into the 19th century and well before the creature became to be identified with our city.

St Vigean’s Church in Scotland also has an imp-like figure.

What is notable about all these examples is their depiction of the imp, with hooves, sharp, pointed teeth, ears from a cow and a hairy body. Also, they all seem to pre-date the modern period, with most carved during the Middle Ages.
The most likely explanation for their existence is as a pagan deity which survived and thrived in the Christian world, much like the famous ‘Green Man‘ (a mysterious face surrounded by and sometimes spewing vegetation, thought to represent rebirth and springtime and argued to be the inspiration for a number of tales including Peter Pan, though that is another story for another day). The imp, therefore is likely similar in nature, perhaps representing a deity associated with agriculture or the keeping of livestock.

Regardless of its obscure origins and prevalence throughout the country, the imp has come to represent Lincoln as its mischievous mascot. So next time you see our little friend perched up in the cathedral, take a moment to ponder its mysterious past. He may not originally be from here, but he has certainly become Lincoln’s favourite little fiend.

Cory Santos is a postgraduate researcher at the University of Lincoln who specialises in the social history of Britain during the Second World War. Besides his main research focuses, he also enjoys local history and the interesting tales it often turns up.

By Cory Santos corysantos

We all know the basic history of our city: first came the Romans, then when they left came the Anglo-Saxons, then Vikings from beyond the seas, and finally, when they were expelled, Normans. Though how did these various groups really affect Lincoln, and how can we see these influences in our daily lives?

While not a complete listing of the history of every street or area of Lincoln, I looked at how the names of streets and neighbourhoods betrays the complex and interesting past of our great city.

Lincoln was founded as a Roman fort (and later colony) in the middle of the 1st century A.D. As a rule, Roman settlements tended to conform to a regular pattern, with rectangular walls and straight roads that intersected at right angles.

Lincoln colony under the Romans. Photo: David Vale, Lincoln FLARE

As the reconstructed view of Roman Lincoln shows, the city certainly conformed to these rules. Why then, does modern Lincoln bear such little resemblance to the ancient look of the city? Apart from the remnants of walls, gates and High Street, little else from that time remains. This is largely due to the period following Roman rule, when the shaping of modern Lincoln really began.

As the Romans left Britain in 410 A.D., Lincoln experienced a gradual shift of the main focus of the city, from the administrative centre near the present castle and cathedral and towards the river. Uphill Lincoln, where the main civic buildings of the Roman city were, gradually fell into disrepair as the buildings became redundant for anything other than building materials.

In fact, archaeological examination of the area has shown that by the end of the 6th century, much of the upper city had been re-purposed for agriculture, with heavy layers of soil over the old Roman street level. This perhaps, best explains the disappearance of much of the Roman street plan of Lincoln. Even the High Street (the Roman Ermine Street) shows the effects of this, as after travelling a straight line for most of its journey through the city, it makes a strange hook at The Strait and Steep Hill before rejoining its original course at the top, where it meets Michaelgate.

The shift towards the river also corresponds to a shrinking of the population. This decline, however, was eventually reversed when the Vikings arrived towards the end of the 9th century. From this point, Lincoln once again grew and regained much of its former importance as a strategically-placed trading centre, both to the Vikings and the Saxons who came later.

The effects of Norse rule on the city are easily seen in the place and street names which surround us. This is most apparent in the presence of the term ‘gate’ in a street’s name. ‘Gate’ derives from the Old Norse word ‘gata’, meaning street. Names such as Michaelgate, Hungate and Broadgate, therefore, refer not to actual gates of the city’s walls but rather to ‘Michael Street’, ‘Hound (or Dog) Street’, and ‘Broad Street’ respectively.

During this period, the main settlements of Lincoln were focused upon the districts of Wigford (literally ‘settlement by the river crossing’ in Old English), south of the river on the High Street and the area around Flaxengate (‘Flax Street’) and Thorngate (‘Thorn Street’, though this was a larger district at the time, near where the Green Dragon pub is today).

Following the return of English and later Norman rule, greater emphasis of settlement, particularly by the wealthy, began in the uphill section of the city. Names of the streets also began to take on a more English consistency as well, such as Silver Street and Mint Street, along which precious metals were worked, especially for minting into coins, and Monk’s Road, where a monastery formerly existed near the present hospital. The influence of Norse culture in the city was, however, still strongly felt, as can be seen in Bailgate, which combined the Norman ‘bailey’ or the fortified courtyard next to a defensive position, with ‘gate’, meaning street.

Monks Abbey ruins adjacent to modern children’s play facilities. Photo: Heritage Connect Lincoln

Much of the layout of central Lincoln was settled by the end of the Middle Ages, giving us the layout within the old walls which we are familiar with today. The city, however, has continued to expand outward, first with Newport (‘port’ in this instance means ‘town’) north of the walls in the 17th century, south with the creation of new streets off High Street such as Portland Street and Sibthorp Street in the Victorian period, and in all other directions since.

The story of Lincoln is long and complex and each moment in its history has had an effect on how we see it today. The names of our streets portray not only their past, but that of Lincoln.

Cory Santos is a postgraduate researcher at the University of Lincoln who specialises in the social history of Britain during the Second World War. Besides his main research focuses, he also enjoys local history and the interesting tales it often turns up.