TWO HUNDRED YEARS ago, there was an extraordinary occurrence at a country house close to Bourne that today resembles a tale of the unexpected or perhaps even a horror story. 

In the autumn of 1807, a titled country gentleman, who we will call Sir Henry, suffered a fall from his horse while out riding which knocked him unconscious and after lying on the ground prostrate for several hours, a venerable old man came to his assistance and suggested that they go to a mansion which was close by. "Fear not, yonder house is mine“, said his rescuer. “I will support you to it. There you shall be comforted."  

On arrival, servants attended to Sir Henry and soon he had recovered sufficiently to thank his host who invited him to stay for dinner. He accepted and was shown into a large hall where a table had been laid for sixteen people. All of the diners turned out to be men and there were no ladies present. 

The old man sat at the head of the table and an excellent meal was served accompanied by pleasant conversation all round. But the instant dinner was over, he left the room and the mood of the guests changed to one of excited animosity towards their host, condemning him in the most outrageous terms and suggesting that Sir Henry had been enticed to the house against his will.  

One of the guests told him: “You will have ample cause to curse the fatal hour that put you in his power for you have no prospect in this world but misery and oppression. Perpetually subject to the capricious humour of the old man, you will remain in this mansion for the rest of your days. Your life, as mine is, will become burdensome, and, driven to despair, your days will glide on with regret and melancholy in one cold and miserable meanness. This, alas, has been my lot for fifteen years and not mine only but the lot of everyone you see here since their arrival at this cursed abode."

There were similar dire warnings from the other guests which continued in the same vein until a servant entered the room telling Sir Henry that his master wished to see him and despite the entreaties of his fellow diners, followed willingly to a nearby room where he found the old man was seated at a table covered with dessert and wine.  

He looked at Sir Henry for a moment and then said: “I am Doctor Willis. You must have heard of me. I confine my practice entirely to cases of insanity and as I board and lodge patients suffering from this condition, the persons you dined with this evening are madmen and this mansion is vulgarly called a madhouse. I was unwilling to tell you of this before dinner, fearing it would make you uneasy. For although I know them to be perfectly harmless, you very naturally might have had apprehensions."

Sir Henry had indeed found himself a guest at Shillingthorpe Hall, near Bourne, built by Dr Willis as a private asylum around 1796 having already practiced in a similar capacity from his home at nearby Greatford Hall.  

Francis Willis (1718-1807) began his professional life as a clergyman but changed to practising medicine, specialising in mental disorders, and was made a Doctor of Medicine by the University of Oxford in 1759, using his own house in London to receive "wrongheads" as those suffering from mental disorders were known. He moved to Greatford in 1776 to open the hall as a madhouse, encouraging his patients to perform manual work in and around the estate to benefit from the fresh air and exercise, and soon became one of the foremost physicians of the day. 

In 1788, he and his eldest son, Dr John Willis, treated George III at Kew and were rewarded with £1,000 a year for 21 years while John was given £650 a year for the rest of his life. He became one of the most celebrated doctors of his time, specialising in the treatment of "persons of distinction and respectability" and the King was his most illustrious patient.

The asylum later moved to nearby Shillingthorpe Hall, built for his son, John, circa 1796. William Marrat (1772-1852), recorded in his History of Lincolnshire published in 1816, that it was "a very fine mansion built about 20 years ago." He added: "The gardens, which are extensive, are laid out with taste, and are walled round. This place is also appropriated to the accommodation of patients who are insane, the same as the house at Greatford. Both houses are very pleasantly situated."

It is to William Marrat that we are indebted for the tale of Sir Henry and his night in the madhouse at Shillingthorpe which continued in such use until 1863. There were various later owners of the house and it often stood empty for long periods and by 1900 it belonged to Lord Kesteven (the former Sir John Trollope) and was used by various members of his family who gave permission for the grounds to be made available for worthy charitable functions. In the summer of 1931, for instance, the committee of the Butterfield Hospital at Bourne was invited to hold a fete there to raise funds, an event that was well attended. 

During the Second World War, the house and grounds were used for military purposes and in 1944 army cadets from the district held a training camp there but with the war’s end, the high cost of maintaining such a grand property became prohibitive and the building was demolished in 1949. 

Francis Willis is remembered with a bust and plaque in the transept of the village church at Greatford, the work of Joseph Nollekens (1737-1823), the noted sculptor who was also a founder member of the Royal Academy.  

The importance of this work is an indication of the eminence achieved by the doctor who not only treated the king but also maintained a distinguished guest list at Shillingthorpe which comprised a number of titled people including a marquis, several honourables as well as a sprinkling of clergymen and doctors, some of whom may well have been the dining companions of Sir Henry on that fateful night.