THE YORK ROAD 289 



on a raw, cold and dismal Easter Day, in the year 147 1, 

 the famous battle between the Houses of York and 

 Lancaster which ended in the death of the king-maker, 

 and established Edward IV. upon the throne ; and behind 

 an oak tree, which still stands opposite the Green Man 

 at the junction of the York and Holyhead Roads, the 

 immortal Dick Turpin used to sit silent on his mare, 

 Black Bess, patiently waiting for some traveller to speak 

 to. The battle has been celebrated by Lord Lytton in 

 The Last of the Barons, perhaps as fine an account of a 

 mediaeval " set to ' as can be found out of Scott. The 

 noble author lived at Copped Hall, near Totteridge, and 

 often used to pay visits to the scene. The Highwayman 

 has been immortalized by Harrison Ainsworth. Did he 

 not write in one night's sitting the whole series of chapters 

 — I don't know how many there are — should not like to 

 say how many there are not — in which is set forth in 

 such stirring form the celebrated ride to York ? Certainly 

 he did, and Macaulay as certainly denied that such a 

 thing ever took place, according to the invariable practice 

 of Whig historians, who are always heavy when they 

 handle volatile matter. 



And Turpin's ride to York reminds me that there is 

 another road to it, besides the one I am on ; namely the 

 road by Ware, which, according to the prophet Ainsworth, 

 Turpin took, though why he should have gone to Ware 

 when he was already in Barnet is a matter which will 

 ever remain one of conjecture to the curious. I think 

 however that we will follow this Ware route for a few 

 miles, just to get us clear of London, when I shall go off 

 the York Road, so far as its history is concerned, and 

 tell here of some great northern coachmen, and some 

 great northern catastrophes. 



The York Road then, which goes by way of Ware, 

 runs through Shoreditch, Stoke Newington, Stamford 

 Hill to Tottenham, and so into Edmonton, through 

 which place John Gilpin, Esq., passed at the rate of 

 sixty miles an hour. The world has made itself ac- 



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