The Eagle and
Child
The village pub at Auckley near
Doncaster was originally called ‘The Bird and Bastard’ so
the name has been somewhat modified. It
all derives from a 14th century legend surrounding the local squire,
Sir Thomas Latham, who is said to have seduced a servant girl in his employ who
gave birth to a son. To cover up his
misdeeds, Latham arranged for the child to be abandoned near a tree wherein
nested a bird of prey. Because he
actually wanted a son and heir, he then ‘ found ‘ the child and adopted it.
Jemmy Hirst at the Rose & Crown
Formerly The Neptune Inn, this strangely named pub at Rawcliffe near Goole remind us
of eccentric local man, Jemmy Hirst, who
planned his own funeral and for some reason he stipulated that his
coffin was to be borne by eight old maids who would receive one guinea each.
When he died in October 1829 at the age of 91 years, it was in fact eight
widows who performed that last service and they were paid half a crown each. In
accordance with Jeremy’s wishes, the Mayor of Rawcliffe declared the funeral
day a public holiday and as the glass-domed coffin was carried to the
churchyard, a piper from Aberdeen and a fiddler, each hired by Jeremy on
payment of £5, preceded it. A great procession of his racing friends and
acquaintances marched to lively music and the event was followed that night by
a firework display.
Jemmy or James to give him his correct name, was indeed an eccentric of the first order. He was born on a farm at Rawcliffe and had a great love of animals which he liked to train and it was said that a hedgehog and an otter followed him to school. Later in life he trained a young bull – Jupiter as Jemmy called it – as a horse, riding it to market and even hunting to hounds with it. When his father died Jemmy inherited nearly £1000 and, after shrewd investment, he became a rich man. He built a wickerwork carriage with very high wheels and a top shaped like a chinaman’s hat, and of course it was pulled by Jupiter. Off he went to Doncaster Races followed by two foxes he had tamed, where he was as popular as he was colourful with harlequin breeches, yellow boots, red coat and huge hat said to be three yards in circumference. For betting he used his own bank notes to the value of five pence ha’penny. Later he attached sails and a bed to his strange carriage and replaced the bull with four mules.
Jeremy had of course carefully planned his funeral. His coffin, made to his own design, was equipped with a bell (in case he need to call anybody from his grave), had folding glass doors and it stood in his dining room instead of a sideboard and served as a bar for his favourite tipple – brandy. After imbibing, his friends would be invited to try the coffin for size and were only released on payment of a fee, a penny from the men and from the women – a garter, which would be used as embellishment. His generosity knew no bounds and he was called the ‘King of Rawcliffe’.
He married the lady who had been his housekeeper for a number of years and he wore a toga for the occasion, insisting that the ceremony be conducted in sign language.
He was a great practical joker and lived in a strange house where each of the four walls had a door to confuse visitors and some inside doors led only to a blank wall or gruesome painting. The windows were of different sizes and were curtained with newspaper and a variety of staircases led nowhere,
Apparently because of his famed oddity, King George 111 invited Jeremy to Court and he travelled to London in his wickerwork carriage. Jeremy was not greatly impressed with the capital or with Court etiquette, but he did invite the King to visit Rawcliffe and promised him ‘as much good brandy as tha can sup.’
Jeremy was mostly remembered for his generosity and his great love of practical jokes. Strangely enough, there is no known grave for Jemmy. It is thought that he may have been buried with his parents.
I am grateful to Gordon for the use of his Geograph photograph.
The Swordsman
One date in history which readily springs to mind is 1066,
that momentous year which changed the face of our country. Indeed it was a momentous year for Saxon King
Harold – he who was supposedly shot by an arrow in the eye at the Battle of
Hastings. What is not so well remembered
is that Harold had marched his troops some 250 miles from Stamford Bridge near
York after defeating the Norwegians there, to engage the Normans in his final
battle.
The Swordsman Inn, situated alongside the bridge over the River
Derwent at Stamford Bridge, reminds us of a heroic event which turned the
battle of 1066 in Harold’s favour. It
was vital that Harold’s troops should cross the river but the only way across
was by way of a narrow wooden bridge which was blocked by a huge Norwegian
warrior who managed to slay all the soldiers who tried to dislodge him. Apparently the day was saved by a brave
young soldier who floated under the bridge in a tub and managed to stab the
warrior through a gap in the wooden bridge.
Thus the way was clear and the victorious Saxon army stormed across.
Until 1878, a Spear Pie Festival
was held annually in the village with the traditional pie being boat shaped and
filled with pears. The festival was temporarily
revived in 1966 to commemorate the 900th anniversary of the battle,
but is alas now only a memory.
The Londesborough Arms
A huge armchair can be seen in this fine hostelry at
Market Weighton in East Yorkshire, together with a portrait of its former
owner, William Bradley, the Yorkshire Giant!
A memorial plaque on a fine Georgian house not far away,
depicts a large footprint, that of ‘The
tallest Englishman ever recorded who lived in this house.’ William Bradley was born at Market Weighton on 10th
February 1787, one of 13 children and grew to be 7ft 9ins tall and weighed 27
stones. One of his shoes, 15ins long and 51/2ins wide, can be seen in Hull museum.
The Yorkshire Giant travelled the country exhibiting
himself at fairs and shows and it cost 1/- to see him, quite a considerable
amount in those early days of the 19th century. Apparently King George 111 was quite taken
with him and presented him with a gold watch chain.
Bradley died at Market Weighton on 30th May
1820 at the age of 33 years. His coffin
measured 9ft x 3ft. He was buried at
5-o-clock in the morning of 3rd June 1820, to avoid onlookers,
originally in the churchyard, but in 1872 his remains were exhumed and reburied
inside All Saints Church at Market Weighton, where a memorial tablet can be
seen.
William Bradley is still recorded in the Guinness Book of
Records as the tallest ever British person.
A fund has been started in recent years to raise money for a statue of
the great man to be erected in his home town.
The Falling Stone
The Falling Stone Inn at Thwing recalls and unusual incident
which occurred in 1795.
On a Sunday in December of that year, a stone weighing 56
pounds fell from the atmosphere and hit the earth a few hundred yards from Wold
Cottage just on the outskirts of the nearby village of Wold Newton in East
Yorkshire. It caused an indenture about a yard across and 19 inches deep.
The meteorite is now preserved in the Natural History Museum
in London.
A stone pillar marks the exact spot and an inscription tells
the story:
‘Here on this spot
December 13th 1795, fell from the atmosphere
An extraordinary stone!
In breadth 28 inches. In length 30 inches.
And the weight of which was fifty-six pounds!
This column erected by
Edward Topham
Ye Olde
White Heart
A panel in the so called Plotting Room at Ye Olde White Harte pub in Silver
Street, in Hull, East Yorkshire, tells of the events of 23rd April, 1642 :
‘
Whilst Sir John Hotham, the Governor of Hull, was giving a dinner party he
received an intimation from the King that His Majesty, who was then only four
miles from the town, deigned to dine with him that day. The Governor, filled with surprise at the
unexpected news, retired to his private room (since called The Plotting Room)
and sent for Alderman Pelham, the M.P for the Borough. It was then resolved to close the gates
against the King and his followers and a message was dispatched to his Majesty
informing him of the decision. The
soldiers were called to arms, the bridge drawn up, the gates closed and the
inhabitants confined to their houses.
About 11 o’clock the King appeared at Beverley Gate but the Governor
refused to allow him to enter the walls.
The King then called upon the Mayor but that official fell upon his
knees and swore that he could not assist as the gates were guarded by
soldiers. Whereupon the King, after much
strong discussion and proclaiming Hotham a traitor, withdrew to Beverley.’
The
preserved foundations of Beverley Gate in
the heart of the bustling shopping center
bear a plaque which testifies to this first overt act of The Civil War on St. George’s Day in 1642.
At The
Green Dragon Inn at Welton near
Hull in East Yorkshire, now a quiet country pub, stories of the legendary Dick Turpin abound, for this was the
scene of his arrest in 1739. Turpin was
nothing like the romantic character portrayed by Harrison Ainsworth in his
novel Rookwood. He was actually born at Bluebell Inn at Hempstead in Essex and ended his days on the gibbet at York
Knavesmire on April 17th 1739. Turpin
was a cattle and horse thief turned highwayman and was actually detained at The
Green Dragon on a charge of poaching.
He gave the name John Palmer to avoid recognition but made the mistake
of writing to his brother whilst in custody and a former schoolmaster
recognized his writing. It seems strange
that Turpin could read and write, but apparently it proved to be his undoing
because he was duly identified, tried and hanged at York Knavesmire. He was just 34 years of age. It is said that Turpin engaged five indigent
men to follow his cart to the gallows and these ‘mourners’ were each paid the
sum of 10/-.
Dick Turpin was reputedly buried in the graveyard of
St. Georges Church in George Street, York, where a renovated gravestone reads :
‘ John Palmer, otherwise Richard
Turpin.
The notorious highwayman and horse stealer,
Executed
at Tyburn, April 17th, 1739
and
buried in St. Georges churchyard. ‘
Although Tyburn was
in fact the London gallows it was also a generic term for any gallows.
The Bluebell Inn, Hempstead, Turpin's birthplace.
The jemmy Hirst at the rose and Crown was never called the Neptune inn that was a pub on the main road
ReplyDeleteEcho the previous comment, this pub was never called the Neptune. In 2003, it was called the Admiral Nelson and the then either in that year or early the next, it was renamed 'Jemmy Hirst at the Rose and Crown'. The pub was always (back in time) the Rose and Crown - when it changed to the Admiral Nelson I don't know, but it was the Rose and Crown in the 1970s (Darleys). In 1902 the pub was a Joshua Tetley pub and known as the Rose and Crown Hotel. Prior to this, still as the Rose and Crown Hotel, it was in the building to the right of the present one. Going back into the 1850s, it was the Kings Arms ...... but never the Neptune!
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