A Grim Almanac of York E-Book

Alan Sharp

• Herausgeber: The History Press
• Kategorie: Fachliteratur
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 340

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2015

Beschreibung

This day-by-day account of gruesome tales from York's past reveals the seedy underbelly of what was historically the most important city in the North. Inside these pages you will find true stories of murder and intrigue, battles and conspiracies, witches and religious martyrs, gruesome executions and horrible accidents. Read about Margaret Clitherow, tortured to death for her beliefs, Richard Scrope, the archbishop executed for treason, and of course the notorious highwayman Richard 'Dick' Turpin and his moonlight ride. If you have ever wondered what nasty goings-on occurred in the York of yesteryear, then read on … if you dare!

Leseprobe

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Although the author’s name is the one that appears on the cover of a book, in reality, writing a book is always a collaborative experience. I would like to give my thanks to everyone who has helped me along the way, in whatever capacity.

In particular, I would like to thank the staff of the York Explore Library, where I spent long hours finding the accounts that appear within this book. They are ever helpful and patient, and without the wonderful resources they provide, this book would not have been possible. Also, the staff at the York Museums Trust, York Minster and the Minster Library, and the Jorvik Group.

Thanks also to the individuals who have helped either with information or with sourcing illustrations. These include Karen Adams, John Cooper (University of York), Darren Flinders, Allan Harris, and others who have given a word of advice here and there. All uncredited images are property of The History Press.

Finally, on a personal note I would like to thank my family and friends for putting up with me; the guides who have worked with me at White Rose York Tours during this period and who have helped make that company a success which, in turn, has helped me to learn so much more about this fantastic city; Laura over there in the States, who will always sit patiently on the end of a phone and allow me to vent about anything that’s on my mind; Matilda Richards at The History Press for giving me the chance to write this book; and anyone else I may have forgotten that helped me along the way.

York skyline overlooking St Mary’s church and the minster. (Author’s collection)

CONTENTS

TITLE

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

INTRODUCTION

JANUARY

FEBRUARY

MARCH

APRIL

MAY

JUNE

JULY

AUGUST

SEPTEMBER

OCTOBER

NOVEMBER

DECEMBER

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

BIBLIOGRAPHY

COPYRIGHT

St Mary’s Abbey, York. (© Allan Harris)

INTRODUCTION

York. The capital of the North.

From its foundation in AD 71, York has always been at the heart of the United Kingdom. The Romans built the first defensive camp here, and made it the administrative centre of their northernmost province. The Anglo-Saxon kings of Northumbria made it their capital, and the Vikings ruled over vast swathes of English soil from within its defences. William the Conqueror came here, capturing the city to consolidate his power in the North, and Henry III lived within its walls and turned it into a veritable stronghold.

York was the northern staging post of the Plantagenet kings as they attempted to win Scotland and bring it into the realm. The bloodiest fighting of the Wars of the Roses raged in the countryside just beyond the walls, while the heads of noblemen stared lifelessly from spikes atop the city gates. Henry VIII came here during the Reformation and changed the city irrevocably. And its besieging and eventual capitulation was one of the major turning points of the English Civil War.

And while the vast canvas of history was painted large across the city, smaller stories were told quietly in the background. At the Knavesmire and in the grounds of York Castle, the hangman plied his trade dispatching murderers, rapists and common thieves as well as the highwaymen who terrorised the roads north from London. Famous criminals like Dick Turpin and William ‘Swift Nick’ Nevison found themselves dangling from the York gallows tree, alongside men whose names have been forgotten to history, although their crimes were no less heinous.

And then there were those less deserving of their fate: Catholic priests and recusants whose only crime was to worship their God in their own way and not the way that kings and queens had chosen for them; noblemen who had chosen the wrong side in some petty squabble between the great families, where – had things taken a different turn – they might have been hailed as heroes instead of having their heads separated from their bodies.

Come with me, down past the Knavesmire, to the Micklegate Bar, where the young King Edward IV rode into the city in glory having secured the throne for himself and for the House of York. It was along this way that St William rode also, on his triumphant return to the city, not yet a saint but about to meet the destiny that would raise him up to that hallowed position. Here, in this affluent quarter of the city, they would have passed the houses of the good and great, the rich merchants and businessmen, as they rode down to the Ouse Bridge, then the only crossing of the river other than by ferry.

So on to the bridge itself, standing in this spot since the time of the Vikings, although the Romans had built their own river crossing not 300 yards distant. This bridge, the lifeline holding the two sides of the city together, was once covered in buildings, including a prison and England’s first public convenience built in one of the arches in 1367. And now we come to Coney Street, the name dating from the time of the Anglo-Saxon occupation, from the word ‘Cyning’, meaning king. Turn left here and the road leads to St Mary’s Abbey, where a devout Benedictine order observed its worship. Turn right and it’s the castle, looking down over the city from its high motte. Peace and devotion one way, war and bloodshed the other; almost a metaphor for the city itself.

But continue on, and now we’re in Pavement, where proclamations are heard and traitors lose their heads. Here is the hustle and bustle of the market, where hardworking farmers and merchants try to earn an honest crust from the fruits of their labours, while cutpurses and vagabonds try to relieve them of the same. On the left here is the Shambles, the dingy street of butchers’ shops, where the rich warm smells of blood and freshly cut muscle and sinew mingle with the sweat of the brows of porters and slaughtermen. And that leads us to Petergate, a street whose most famous son dreamed of regicide, and earned an ignominious traitor’s death and an infamy, the legacy of which continues to this day.

And finally, emerging from this street we find ourselves at Windy Corner, here in the shadow of the towers of the minster church, where local legend says that the wind and the devil came to cause mischief: Satan made the wind promise to wait for him outside while he went in to cause terror, but never returned, so the wind is still there.

This huge cathedral, the largest such Gothic structure in Northern Europe, towers over the town, dominating the skyline with its 200ft central tower, its huge imposing walls and vast swathes of medieval stained glass. It stands on a spot where a church has stood to the glory of God since the first humble wooden building, erected by St Paulinus in AD 627, and before that the Great Hall of the Roman camp, where five emperors broke bread with the soldiers of their empire. Demolished and rebuilt, damaged by weather and wind and burned to the ground several times, the current structure dates back to 1220, and within its walls have walked kings and commoners, heroes and villains, saints and sinners. Through it all, it has remained the beating heart of the city.

So take a walk through this city, through this capital of the North. Marvel at its riches and its splendours; meet the people, learn their names; you’ll get a hearty Yorkshire welcome here. Just don’t go too far into those dark corners, or you maybe surprised by what you discover lurking there.

Alan Sharp, 2015

JANUARY

Map showing the location and layout of York Castle and other important surrounding buildings in the eighteenth century. (Author’s collection)

1 JANUARY 1660 The Siege of York and subsequent Battle of Marston Moor, both described elsewhere in this book, were the turning point in the English Civil War which resulted in Charles I having his head removed. This date saw York play an equally vital role in its restoration, and the same man, Thomas Fairfax, was the architect of both sets of events. After Oliver Cromwell’s death, and the resignation of his son Richard from the role of Lord Protector, Fairfax became convinced that no Member of Parliament was fit to lead, and that the monarchy must return. He was joined in this belief by General Monck, the Governor of Scotland, and after a daring ten-day ride by Fairfax’s cousin Brian to communicate between the two men, Fairfax promised to take the field and secure York on this date. On the day, Fairfax was ill with gout, but nothing would stop him fulfilling his promise. The country was by now under the control of the Committee of Safety, and their leading general, John Lambert, was advancing north with an army of 10,000 men. However, one of his officers, Colonel Redman, indicated that he was willing to side with Fairfax, and the two armies met at the historic battlefield at Marston Moor where sixteen years earlier, Fairfax and Cromwell had slaughtered the armies of York. As Fairfax arrived, Lambert’s army approached him with a paper stating that they stood with Parliament, and in full view of Lambert’s troops, with only a ragtag army of local nobles behind him, Fairfax tore the paper to pieces. No sooner had he done so than regiment after regiment of Lambert’s army began to leave his ranks and move over to Fairfax’s side. With his new army, Fairfax left the battlefield and rode into York to secure it for Monck’s arrival.

2 JANUARY 1835 A group of men were at work on some restoration work high up in the prayer house of York Minster when a section of the scaffolding on which they were standing gave way. There were five men on the section at the time, and they were all plunged to the ground, sustaining severe injuries. The height at which they were working was said to be approximately 30–40ft. The foreman of the works, a Mr Scott, was killed instantly in the fall, while the other four were conducted to York County Hospital for treatment.

3 JANUARY 1885 Magistrates in York spent the entire day untangling a web of different assault cases all tied to the same incident. From the various details, it appears that it all started when a boy named John Willis was bitten by a dog owned by Thomas Mercer of Lowther Street. On the day in question, Mercer had heard a knock at the door, and on opening it, a gang of men rushed in and began to attack all inside. James Gowthorpe dragged Mercer outside and beat him with a stick, while his wife Martha was struck in the face by Thomas Willis, the boy’s father, resulting in a broken nose and bleeding from her mouth. Willis then chased Mercer’s daughter Mary Ann into the kitchen, where she defended herself with a fire poker. During this she saw through the window of the kitchen that four other men were beating her brother Henry in the yard, although she could not identify them. She then ran to the bedroom, chased by three men, who were about to assault her when the police arrived. The men then set about the two policemen, one of whom, PC Paul, was severely injured in a brutal attack during which he was kicked and beaten into unconsciousness. Gowthorpe, Willis and another man named John Haigh were all sentenced to lengthy terms of imprisonment.

Nineteenth-century floor plan of York Minster. (Author’s collection)

4 JANUARY 1786 Some stories you really want to know more details about. The parish register of the church of St Mary in Castlegate records the death on this date of a gentleman named George Birch. The details of his death read ‘most improperly laid before the fire when half frozen’. He was buried in the churchyard four days later.

5 JANUARY 1649 Isabella Billington has become one of the best known Yorkshire witches, although in truth very little is known about her. Most likely her infamy stems from the severity of her crime. She was from Pocklington, around 12 miles east of the city, and the records state that on this date she crucified her mother, before offering a calf and a cockerel as a burnt sacrifice to the Devil. Why she did this was never made apparent. Isabella was tried at York Castle and found guilty of witchcraft; she was sentenced to first be hanged, and then her body burned at the stake. Her husband was also sentenced to death for being complicit in the crime.

6 JANUARY 1565 Until the 1840s, the Ouse Bridge was the only crossing over the river other than by ferry boat. A bridge was first built on the current site during the days of the Viking settlement, that one being a wooden construction, around 270 yards along the river from the site of the original Roman bridge. By the mid-sixteenth century, an impressive bridge stood in the location, topped with shops and other buildings along its entire length. It was supported by St William’s chapel at one end, and included a prison in its structure, as well as the first public lavatory in the city, constructed in 1367. However, in 1564, Yorkshire endured a hard winter with heavy rainfall, and the River Ouse became swollen. As the winter grew colder, water started to freeze around the pillars of the bridge. Then, on this date, a sudden thaw occurred, and water began to flow around the pillars, which had been damaged by the ice, causing them to collapse. The bridge fell into the river, twelve of its buildings collapsing with it and dropping many of the people into the icy cold waters. Some managed to scramble to the banks, but twelve in total were killed and many others suffered permanent injury through frostbite.

The Ouse Bridge, around 1800, painted by Thomas Girtin. Repaired after being partially damaged in 1565, it was dismantled to build the current bridge in 1810. (Author’s collection)

7 JANUARY 1896 Henry Lund, a platelayer working on the York to Malton railway line near Flaxton, was knocked down by a train and killed despite nothing untoward appearing to have happened. Those who were with him stated that the morning was dark and misty, but both he and the train, which was shunting and hence moving slowly, were carrying lights and so each should have been aware of the presence of the other. Those involved in shunting the train asserted that it was done in the usual way, and that at no point were the crew aware of the presence of anyone on the line. Lund himself said nothing, in fact when he was found he was said to have groaned twice and then expired.

8 JANUARY 1813 Between 1811 and 1813, Yorkshire was a frequent venue for Luddite activity. The Luddite movement was protesting against the industrialisation of the textile industry, meaning that unskilled labour could cheaply be employed to do the work previously carried out by highly skilled workers. Mill owners regularly had to protect their property from attack, and one such, William Horsfall, had stated that he would ‘ride up to his saddle in Luddite blood’. As a result, George Mellor, William Thorpe and Thomas Smith lay in wait to ambush him one night, and in the ensuing fight Mellor shot Horsfall in the groin, causing him to bleed to death. The three men were arrested and hanged on this date at York Castle. Two troops of cavalry had to be positioned around the entrances to the castle to prevent any attempt to rescue them. A week later, a total of fourteen men were hanged on the same day for Luddite activities including riot and acts of theft of arms or money.

9 JANUARY780 Eighth-century politics in the Kingdom of Northumbria were a violent and bloody process by which kings and nobles were regularly deposed in battle or by murder. When Aethelred I, who had come to the throne at the age of 12, was deposed five years later in 779, following the assassination – probably on his orders – of three of his ealdormen (or earls), his closest advisor, Osbald, worked hard to restore him. Aelfwald became king, but on this date Osbald and another man named Athelheard gathered a force intending to end Aelfwald’s reign. In a place called Seletune, said to be north of York and probably corresponding to the modern village of Silton, they approached a house where Aelfwald regularly stayed and burned it to the ground. Aelfwald was not present, but his son Bearn was inside and died in the flames. This attempted coup was unsuccessful and Aelfwald reigned for a further nine years before his own death. In 790, Aethelred returned to the throne and restored Osbald to his previous position. On Aethelred’s death Osbald himself was crowned king, but reigned for only twenty-seven days before abdicating and exiling himself at Lindesfarne. On his death, his body was returned to York and buried in the minster.

10 JANUARY 1675 Mr George Aisleby was married to the second daughter of Sir John Mallory, whose older sister was staying as a guest with the family. One night in early January, they all attended a ball at the York apartments of the Duke of Buckingham, and Aisleby and his wife left early, trusting a servant to return home with the sister. However, a friend of Aisleby’s, one Jonathon Jennings, discovered the sister, who was unaware of the arrangement. He put her in his carriage and tried to return her to Aisleby’s home, but found the place locked up and no answer at the door. He therefore took the girl back to his own lodgings to stay the night. Aisleby was convinced some impropriety had taken place and sent a servant on this morning to Jennings with a letter stating that they should meet to discuss matters relating to the honour of the Mallory family. Aisleby is said to have awaited Jennings’ arrival outside the Monk Bar, and the two then went to Penley Crofts, a short distance outside the city walls. There, Aisleby drew his sword and charged at Jennings who, after backing off as far as he could, drew his own weapon to defend himself. During the fight, Jennings was wounded in the hand, but Aisleby received a severe laceration to his right arm from which he later bled to death. Jennings was initially charged and found guilty of manslaughter, but received a royal pardon.

Goodramgate and the Monk Bar, photographed in the 1930s. (Author’s collection)

11 JANUARY 1655 Henry Hatefield made a deposition at York Castle that one Katherine Earle had struck him on the neck with the stalk of a dock plant and then did the same to his horse, which immediately fell sick and died, while he himself also felt ill. He stated that she had previously clapped a Mr Frank, of his acquaintance, on the back, and that Mr Frank had then also felt sick and had gone home and died shortly afterwards, complaining throughout his illness that Earle had bewitched him. Earle was taken into custody and, upon examination two marks were found on her body, which were taken to be the signs of a witch. She is said to have complained that one of the marks came as a result of a burn. There is no record of what happened to her but, historically, such evidence against her suggests that she would have been put to death.

12 JANUARY 1913 Eliza Halder lived with her husband in Lower Eldon Street, where he kept a scrap dealership in a warehouse at the back. She had been ill and confined to bed, and while he was working, their servant had brought some breakfast and lit a fire in the bedroom. A short while afterwards the servant heard a commotion and Mrs Halder came running down the stairs, her clothes ablaze. A neighbour, Morris Cooke, was alerted by his wife that something was wrong in the Halder house and ran across the road. Entering the house, he saw Mrs Halder screaming and in flames, and quickly picked up a nearby hearthrug and threw it over her, laying her down and smothering the flames. Meanwhile, Mr Halder had heard the shouts and come back from his warehouse. Mrs Halder was promptly conveyed to the hospital, and on the way she told her husband that she had sat too close to the fire and set alight her bedsock, which had then ignited the rest of her clothing. Her burns were too severe for any hope of recovery and she died at around 3 p.m.

13 JANUARY 1686 During the reign of King James II, large religious services became fraught with danger, as the populace feared that the openly Catholic king was going to restore the nation to Catholicism. On this date, Lady Henrietta Stanley, wife of the Earl of Strafford, was to be buried in great ceremony in York Minster. To ensure that the funeral went smoothly, Sir John Reresby ordered his company of grenadiers to accompany the hearse. Around forty soldiers lined up on either side as the coffin was paraded through the Micklegate Bar and brought through the streets to the minster, but the presence of the military seems to have antagonised the crowds rather than subduing them, and a riot ensued. The soldiers were set upon with sticks and rocks thrown by the mob, while the metal fittings were torn from the coffin and the black cloth that lay over it was stolen. The soldiers managed to get the coffin into the minster, and found that they had to stand guard at the door of the choir while the rioters tried to force their way in. Eventually the company retired from the church to the Minster Yard, hoping that in a less enclosed space they could control the riot, but they continued to be bombarded with everything the mob could lay their hands on. Several of the soldiers were seriously injured, including one Sergeant Fowler, who was said to be in danger of losing his eyes. Finally the company broke and fled through the city streets in disarray, still chased by angry citizens.

14 JANUARY 1809 Jonathan Graham was a young man of respectable family who became enamoured with the daughter of a farmer named William Jeft, who kept a farm near York. Graham courted and married the girl, and they began to reside in her father’s house, where he took on the role of farm manager. However, his ambitions extended further, and on this date he went to a neighbour, George Hartley, and asked to borrow a gun. Hartley was unable to help him at that time, but he requested again several times and eventually Hartley obliged. Graham then arranged for his wife and child to visit his brother-in-law and, after they were gone, told his wife’s mother that he would follow. A few hours after leaving the house, a gunshot was heard, and Jeft was later found with a serious gunshot injury which was considered life threatening but from which he eventually recovered. In a magnificent display of stupidity, when apprehended, Graham stated that the police could not charge him with the crime because ‘nobody saw me shoot him’. He was sentenced to death and executed at York a few weeks later.

15 JANUARY 1916 Private William Laws, of the 2/7th Northumberland Fusilliers, was stationed in York and billeted at the Fishergate Council School, and had been given leave to visit his family in Newcastle. He returned to York apparently in good health, but on this date began to complain of stomach pains, which became worse as the day went on. At around midnight he was disturbing the whole building – running around and screaming that he was going to die – to the extent that he was locked in the guard room, but on his quietening down it was seen that he had slumped against the wall semi-conscious, and so a doctor was called. However, before the medical man could arrive, Laws had expired. It transpired that during his time in Newcastle, he had been taking medicine for some malady, but had accidentally picked up rat poison and taken that instead, and this had slowly eaten away at the lining of his stomach, causing it to rupture.

16 JANUARY 1883 Private John Maher, of the 5th Dragoon Guards stationed in the city, was given a pass of leave until midnight of this night, and was seen by a PC Taylor heading across the city from the direction of Hungate. As Taylor watched, Maher climbed over a wall and began to walk down the bank of the river, which was flooded over its banks at the time, making the edge difficult to see. At some point the policeman noticed that the soldier had disappeared from sight, even though he should not have gone so far in the time, and he realised that the man had walked straight off the riverbank and into the river. Being on the other bank, he was unable to lend any assistance, and so rushed to the nearest bridge and crossed over but when he reached the spot, the other man was nowhere to be found. His body was discovered floating in the river at 7 a.m. the following day by a lamplighter doing his rounds.

17 JANUARY 1729 An article in the York Courant tells us that on this date ‘a sad accident happened here, viz., a boy about 12 years old belonging to a vessel at the staith, having business to go to the top mast, was of a sudden blown therefrom by the great wind at that time, into the river, and drowned. He is not as yet found.’

18 JANUARY 1896 The Yorkshire Gazette reported on the death of a Mr Kirk, of Bishop Monckton, who had been killed while riding in a hunt with the York and Ainsty hounds. The gentleman had been riding in the hunt since a youth, and now, at 76 years of age, he was said to have been hunting for sixty years. Despite this, Kirk was still a hard rider. However, while attempting to jump a hedge to follow the hounds, his horse struck a cross bar with its forelegs and turned over entirely, landing on top of the unfortunate man. By the time the other riders reached him, it was found that his neck was broken and he must have died almost instantly.

19 JANUARY 1884 A report in the York Herald on this date tells the story that some nights earlier John Lamb, gamekeeper for a Mr Bateson-de-Yarborough, was watching on that gentleman’s lands when he heard a gunshot. He called on his assistant, James Salmon, and the two began to search the land thereabouts when they heard a second shot. Salmon then spotted a man running from a hedgerow, and the pair took off in pursuit. As they crossed an open field, the man turned and pointed a shotgun at them, then, thinking better of it, held the gun by the barrel and threatened to strike them with it. The two men overpowered him and on inspection found that the gun was indeed loaded. The culprit turned out to be a labourer named Joseph Andrews, who had twenty-one previous convictions. On being led from the court having been sentenced to six months’ hard labour, he shouted, ‘I’ll have a few more when I have done!’

20 JANUARY 1891 The winter of 1890 is remembered as one of the coldest in York’s history. A continuous fifty-eight-day cold snap began on 25 November of the previous year; during this period average snowfall was between 8 and 10 inches per day, and temperatures regularly dropped below -10°C. The poorer citizens were at grave risk of starvation or freezing to death, so an emergency meeting had to be held by the Lord Mayor of the city to discuss relief for those in need and an emergency committee to take control of the situation was appointed to begin operations on this date. On its first morning alone, it is reported that 3,233 quarts of soup were distributed by soup kitchens around the city. The cold snap ended just a few days later, but the thaw that followed caused widespread flooding, so things scarcely improved for the next month.

21 JANUARY 1804 Hartley Hemmet, convicted of stealing a box containing wearing apparel, the property of Margaret Dickinson, was sentenced by the quarter sessions of the court at York, to be kept at hard labour for three months, and to be publicly whipped through the streets of the city from the House of Corrections to the Pavement Cross on this date.

22 JANUARY 1875 A report in the York Herald tells of a woman named Barnes and her nephew, who lived in a house on Heworth Moor, and are described as being ‘peculiar and of weak intellect’. The local youth had apparently begun to victimise the pair, and regularly threw stones at their house, breaking the windows, to the point where they had been forced to board up the windows and barricade themselves in. A few days earlier, two policemen named Dean and Steel had called at the house to check that the pair were in good health when a group of about twenty boys assembled outside and started to attack the property. When the policemen emerged, most of them ran away but a few were apprehended. Mr Alderman March, who had befriended the pair, spoke on their behalf in court, saying that some severe action needed to be taken to stop this happening again. The Lord Mayor ordered each of the boys fined 20s, which would have been nearly a week’s wages for the average family at this time.

23 JANUARY 1671 A scuffle in the street almost escalated into something much more serious. Two men were engaging in a dogfight in Micklegate, their animals making a dreadful noise, when a soldier named Hodgson came out of a nearby house and ordered them to desist. When they failed to do so, Hodgson drew his sword and sliced open the cheek of one of the men. One of the sheriff’s men by the name of Perott was nearby and ordered Hodgson to put up his sword, whereupon Hodgson told him he would not, and that he would run the official through if he tried to force him. Perott then left to bring back other officials to arrest the man, and as he was leaving, Hodgson shouted after him that he was a ‘pale-faced rascal’. Hodgson was arrested, taken before the Lord Mayor the following day and bound over to keep the peace.

24 JANUARY 1912 Kate Bennett, a schoolteacher, was returning to her home in Richardson Street at around midday on this date when she heard the sound of someone in distress in the home of her neighbours, William and Henrietta Hodgson. Running inside, she found Mrs Hodgson lying in front of the fire, engulfed in flames. Taking up a rug and quickly stifling the fire, she found that the unfortunate woman had burns across most of her body and her hair was completely burned off. Doctors were called and she was rushed to York County Hospital, but her injuries were too extensive and she died later that day. Mrs Bennett was at a loss as to what had caused the accident as she recalled that there was only a small fire in the fireplace, and it did not seem as if Mrs Hodgson had been cooking on it or tending to it.

25 JANUARY 1663 Following the Restoration of the Monarchy in 1660, a number of disenfranchised Parliamentarian groups attempted to reverse this situation. In 1662, one group in Yorkshire called for a ‘righteous and glorious strife’, and for people to rise up, come forward and join a noble band of staunch patriots to defend their rights against injustice and oppression. A date was arranged for those answering the call to appear in arms in Farnley Wood, near Otley. However, the date and time having been widely distributed, the authorities were aware of what was due to happen and a large body of regular troops and militia awaited their arrival. A commission was set up in York to try the leaders of the uprising, and eighteen of them, mostly conventional preachers and former Parliamentarian soldiers, were sentenced to be executed on this date at the Knavesmire. Following the executions, their heads were removed and set up on the various city gates, and two of the men were quartered and their body parts displayed in a similar fashion.

26 JANUARY 1777 Press gangs were a hated part of life in England in the eighteenth century. Arriving in town to recruit volunteers for the naval forces, they were empowered to sign up anyone between the ages of 18 and 55 who they had reason to believe had seafaring experience. Often, though, they would use a very loose application of these regulations, and many pressed into service could find themselves signed up for many years. Having allowed a press gang to operate in the city, on this morning the Lord Mayor of York received the following letter: ‘My Lord, you may take this for a warning, that if you do not send the press gang out of York before next Tuesday, you may expect your own house set on fire, and the Mansion House too. There is 273 young men set their hands to a paper to put the above into execution.’

27 JANUARY 1929 A young private in the Royal North Lancashire Regiment was being transported to York Barracks, where he was to serve a period of detention in a military prison for desertion. On the journey he requested permission to use the lavatory, but once inside he broke a window and climbed out on to the roof of the train. Once his absence was noticed, his escort pulled the communication cord, bringing the train to a sudden stop and throwing the young man from the top. Injured and bleeding, he crawled underneath the train and was captured soon afterwards, making a run for a nearby quarry.

28 JANUARY 1884 William Wyld was a 72-year-old former York rugby league player who still had connections to the club and was said to keep himself in good condition. He was found stabbed to death in his home in Huntingdon Road, having put up such a fierce struggle that the muscles of his arms were said to have burst from the strain. He had visited the rugby league ground the day before, and at the time he had mentioned withdrawing £800; he was a man known to keep money around his house and to lend it out liberally. After his death, £72 was found hidden in a box in his gas cooker. The police investigation took several weeks but eventually a man named John Dand was arrested. A native of Kirkcaldy in Scotland, Dand was working in York and was known to have spent time with Wyld. On his arrest he is said to have told police that the two had argued about money and that he had killed him by accident, although he later retracted this and claimed he was not at the house when Wyld died. However, evidence of Wyld’s blood on his clothes was enough to convince a jury and he was sentenced to death and hanged in Manchester on 12 June.

29 JANUARY 1803 The York Herald of this date reported on a group of highwaymen who robbed a post boy on the road from York to Northallerton. The trio consisted of two men on horseback and one on foot, and they got away with a sum of £1 2s. However, the pedestrian of the three, whose name was Gamble, was later arrested trying to steal a saddle, and confessed to all. He also stated that the boy had not been their intended target, the group having set out to rob the mailcoach travelling north – a much more lucrative affair – but they had been delayed by other carts on the road. The coach driver had spotted them and blew his horn to scare their horses as they approached.

30 JANUARY 1747 Travelling to York from the village of Shipton, about 5 miles north, William Houseman was robbed in a lane by two highwaymen who got away with a purse containing some silver and other coins. The amount of money was minimal, but to Houseman it was the principle involved, and so he quickly rode into Shipton, rounded up three other men and all four armed themselves before heading out on the common again. On arriving at the spot, the same two men were laying in wait and Houseman called out to them, whereupon they advanced on him. As they approached, he fired his pistol and wounded one of the men in the thigh. They both attempted to fire back but one missed and the other one’s gun failed to go off. The men then turned and fled, but Houseman and his party set off in pursuit. Houseman managed to catch up to one, named Edward Equall, and struck him with the butt of his pistol several times, finally succeeding in taking him prisoner, but the other man managed to escape. Another man named Shepard later came forward and stated that he had been robbed by the same two men in the same spot an hour earlier that evening.

31 JANUARY 1891 In a rather bizarre incident, 50-year-old William Melville walked into a police station in Gateshead on this night in a drunken state, telling police that he wanted to confess to a murder. However, he was too inebriated at the time to make any sense, so it wasn’t until Monday (two days later) that he made a statement to the effect that twenty-five years earlier, he and another man named William Jobling had taken a train to York, where they intended to break into houses. Having found a likely one, they got inside and managed to find £27 in money, but as they departed down a back staircase they were stopped by a girl who tried to raise an alarm. As a result, Melville had raised a revolver and shot her dead. He and the other man then rushed to the railway station and escaped to Manchester. This information was communicated to the York police, who made a thorough search of their records and could find no instance of such an event ever taking place.

FEBRUARY

The Devil in York – this sixteenth-century carving was actually the sign of a printer’s shop in Stonegate. (Author’s collection)

1 FEBRUARY 1829 Jonathan Martin lived a varied life. As a sailor in the Royal Navy, he served at the Battle of Copenhagen, where his shipmates spoke of his religious obsession. He later became a Wesleyan minister, but his odd, obsessive behaviour, which included threatening to shoot the Bishop of Oxford, resulted in him being made unwelcome within that Church. Eventually he ended up in York, where he objected to members of the clergy at the minster moving in high social circles, and constantly left threatening notes pinned up around the area. One night, while asleep, he dreamed of a dark cloud that moved over the minster, and became convinced that God had instructed him to burn the place down. On this date he hid out in the choir of the minster until everyone had gone. Then he set fire to the woodwork and escaped through a window. The fire was not spotted until 7 a.m. the next day, by which time it was out of control and remained so until it burned through the timbers of the roof, which collapsed, smothering much of the flames. Even so, it took a further two days to extinguish it completely. At the height of the fire, hot air is said to have been forced through the organ pipes, causing a haunting discordant cacophony as firefighters attempted to bring the blaze under control. Martin was tried for arson but escaped the death penalty due to his mental instability, and was instead confined to the Bedlam asylum for the rest of his life.

2 FEBRUARY 1904