John Byng Visits York Minster
SNIPPETTS
JOHN BYNG
RIDES ROUND BRITAIN
Sunday-Monday 3-4 June 1792
Précis John Byng RIDES LAND BRITAIN
Source: RIDES ROUND BRITAIN by John Byng, Viscount Torrington, circa 1790 and published by the Folio Society of London 1996 and to whom all rights are reserved.
Commencing page 291-296
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Sunday, June 3 1792
Eager to leave Doncaster, I breakfasted in haste and before nine o’clock was leading my mare over the bridge and long causeway, crossing the River Don, and the meadows, which are beautifully bounded and must form fine objects to Mr Wrightson’s seat[i] at Cusworth; which house appears to much advantage upon the hill to the left; but it’s maternity offer’d no temptations to me.
The road being novel to me, extremely good and affording fine views, gave me ample satisfaction. I felt all the pleasure of a
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hopeful Tourist, with every delight and feel of health that I derive from the country air. Above Robin Hood‘s Well Judge Perryn has a seat, by the roadside, and a paddock with some deer. I walk’d, my horse in hand, down all the hills, which relieves both man and horse (Garwood pursues his way by himself). The descent to and vale about Wentbridge is very picturesque. There I saw many clean-drest home-spun people walking towards their church at Darrington, where I left the high road, and passing by the church, whose bells were chiming for service and assembling the devout (all would go to church if churches were well served).
I came in another mile to Catton village, wherein are several smart houses; and in a mile further to the town of Pontefract, built upon a dry soil, showing handsomely and of much larger extent than I expected. It is a town of a good aspect, surrounded by garden grounds, producing liquorice, a plant I never saw before, looking like young ash. The new steeple to their new church is not to my taste; being an hater of Grecian fancies.
At the end of the town are the poor remains the castle, so famed in old story, and in the Civil Wars. In this survey I was attended by two labourers, who work’d in the garden ground within the walls, who explained, or invented, history very well. One place they remarked to me as the King’s chamber, where which of the second was murder’d.
From the top of the keep there is a magnificent prospect as far, I believe, as to York Minster. The remaining walls are very thick; and under the garden ground of the centre is a long vault, entered by stairs, call’d the magazine, where they now keep the liquorice roots. (Of all the former grandeur, now only these poor ruins remain.)
I liked the survey much, and my attendants were very communicative.
Below the hill stands the old church with a much handsomer steeple than the new one: but the body is ruining, a fine one, where, and in the chancel, are many tombs. For now they bury therein.
Near the town it is an old deserted mansion call’d New Hall
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(mention’d in Captain Paulden’s narrative),[ii] purchased by Ld Harewood from the Duke of Kingston, but being quite block’d up, I could not get into it.
Two short miles, and to Ferrybridge. Crossing the bridge, I was met by Garwood on foot (then I expect something solemn: the horse dead; or---). ‘The inn I have been at won’t do, sir; the stabling is too bad; and the people are very instrument’. ‘Well then, I will go back, and put up at the Angel; and do you come over to me’. Here I was well-placed and found a good stable, a good parlour and an intelligent landlord. Having ordered dinner, I made a great toilette; then dined cleanly and comfortably and drank (a little) of a good bottle of port. After dinner I achiev’d an evening ride upon Bumper, who carried me safely but very uneasily. I took the high road to the hilltop, then turn’d to the right into Byram Park, Sir John Ramsden‘s, about which, and around the pleasure ground, I rode at my leisure. It is a verdant, well-wooded place, with a goodish house and an extent of made water. But the timber and the shade are the beauties, and rare ones they soon will be.
I then Road thro’ Brotherton village, and home to tea : my latter evening was likewise well passed in walking by the riverside, admiring the country and the well-built bridge (and, when at the church, at endeavouring at a sketch); and then on the other quarter, to the ferry, where is a good fall of the river. A day not ill spent? and finish’d comfortably, in writing, after the cold beef and tarts had been seen and well consider’d. The evening stable inspection I never owe it. My landlord gave me some prints and plans; and I think I shall enlarge mine by my route of tomorrow.
Monday, June 4 1792
Long live the King, and may his children prove a comfort to him. So must every father, and good citizen, wish; for as the parents are patterns of conjugal fidelity, so ought their
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children to be of duty. This is a large in, of two parts, the old and new; the new contains some good rooms; both house and stable seem to be of infinitely better accommodation than that over the water, and mine host, Mr Denton, is a great sportsman and talks vehemently about hunting. At nine o’clock I left Ferrybridge; as the weather is cold, so things strike in a cold manner, else I may say that I was disappointed at the looks of Ferrybridge, of which I had heard so much; for it appears to me only as a wharf, without shade or feature. Indeed, I have seen no grand features upon the Road : the pleasant country is about Newark and Retford. To like home, one should travel : then it becomes wholesome physic; where can I drink wine or find a bed but at home? Or what view have I seen like that from Highgate Hill; nor have I realised the ideas (of a visionist, perhaps) of passing thro’ groves or walking by purling brooks. This road is not half so pleasant as the Dover road, or the Western road, when at a distance from London.
I held a conversation of information this morning with my landlord, Mr. Denton (a scientific man), whether I should follow the straight road, or take that of the left to Leeds, or that of the right to York? The fall of my switch determin’d me: but upon by asking mine intelligent host if the Players were at York and his answering yes, and my never having seen that city, determined me that way. In three miles I came to the village of [South] Milford, and soon after to Sherburn [in-Elmet], once a market town (nay, within these twenty years), but now every stagecoach is a petty market, galloping away with the produce of the country. In many counties where manufactures flourish, they have sucked up the villages and single cottages. Birmingham, Manchester and Sheffield swarm with inhabitants; but look at them, what a set of mean, drunken wretches! Are they of the make of the honesty, the use of the husbandmen? Ask of the Army what they are? The less intercourse, the more virtue : coalition and collision bring on every vice. The business of agriculture is as permanent, and moves as regularly, as the globe. But is that the
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case with manufactures? May not some event overturn them? And who is then to maintain the mechanic?
I dreaded trade, I hate its clamour: as a gentleman born, I scowl at their (over) advantages. It is in trading towns only where rioting and disorders begin : and yet they want representatives.[iii]
Why, of all places they are the last that should be represented, for their members will be most falsely and violently chosen and their towns forever convulsed by faction. Look at the Leicester : house against house! Think of the last election at Liverpool! Old Sarum is a better and honest representation than any great manufacturing town could produce.
The Church of Sherburn [-in-Elmet] stand stands so high and looks so grandly that I could not but go out of my way to look at it. The view from the churchyard is good; within the church there is nothing to observe upon but that psalm-singing is given up. An old portal stone carved, of our Lord crucified betwixt the two thieves, has been legally dug up; which the sexton said an antiquarian had offer’d £40 for.
‘What a pity it was not sold for the benefit of the poor, for its worth is but 40d.’
Returning into the road, I pass’d near Ld Hawke’s seat at Scarthingwell; on the left, the famous and bloody field of Towton.
Passing Towton village there is a long extent of wide, new-made road, for the benefit of the hasty passenger but not for the satisfaction of the quiet traveller who loves the twine, and the shade, and the view sometimes caught, but not the great staring endless road. This new road now leads magnificently into Tadcaster, a market town with an handsome old stone bridge over the River Wharfe, navigable to this town. This is the first rapid stream I have seen, and it falls above the bridge in a wide and bold sheet of water. Hence a flat country continues, and a very uninteresting one till York Minster appeared, which did not rise before me as I expected.
Approaching York, I left the racecourse, KNAVESMIRE, to the
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right, where the opposite object to the Great Stand is the Gallows!!! Which may be a view of improvement and of good hint for such a station; but yet, surely, it might be conceal’d or else removed; and why not gallowses portable?
I here found that I was getting into gay life, from the address of a young lady, ’how do you do, my dear?’ And also met two sedan chairs. With admiration I enter’d York Micklegate.
Leading my mare over the stones and over Ouse Bridge, I soon came to the George in Coney Street, which inn is one of those very old houses whose front is adorn’d by stucco’d imagery and in it is a very grand apartment with much carved work; and stain’d glass in the windows. My landlord said that this house was formerly a mansion of the Duke of Buckingham, and was built upon the site of the priory of St Leonard’s. In two hopes, here, I was balk’d, for instead of soldiery there were only the militia assembled (debauching themselves, and disgracing their country;) and the Players were gone to Leeds! Should not Mr Denton have known this?
Dinner order’d, I went to the bookseller’s shop (Mr Todd’s), where was a catalogue on the very eve of publication; look’d at the Minster, and then sat down for two hours to a comfortable dinner and a bottle of good port wine. Then walk’d around and thro’ the cathedral; and by Cliffords Tower to the public walk, which is a great length by the bank of the Ouse; but it wants gravel and fronts the western sun. It was nine o’clock when I returned from this ramble and walking about the streets; a brilliant moon, but a cold air. Some boys were throwing squibs; and I saw the company issue from the Mayor’s Dinner in the Town Hall; though this is a Whiggish town. Read the London and York newspapers and sat up till eleven o’clock.
End of transcription on page 296 K W 14 April 2026.
[i] Cusworth Hall, Doncaster
[ii] Thomas Paulden: Pontefract Castle : An Account How it Was Taken, 1702.
[iii] Members of Parliament.
