The old road has now been bypassed by the A1.
For centuries it was the main route from London to York and
beyond.
Many of the old coaching inns still survive from those days,
like pearls on a string.
With a constant ebb and flow of human life, the old Great North
Road has ghosts and legends all of its own.
Wealthy travellers on the road proved a magnet for footpads and highwaymen and
many were relieved of their valuables with the cry "Your money or your life!"
Swift Nick
The best known Nottinghamshire highwayman was John "
Swift Nick " Nevison (1639-1684), so called, it is said, by King Charles
II himself.
Some sources suggest it was Nevison, and not Turpin, who made
the famous London to York ride to establish an alibi.
Nevison's gang of six outlaws met at the Talbot Inn at Newark
and robbed travellers along the Great North Road as far north as York and as far
south as Huntindon.
The gang were betrayed in 1676 by one Elizabeth Burton after
she was arrested for stealing.
Nevison was transported to Tangiers, but returned to England
in 1681 and once more took to highway robbery.
Although King Charles offered a reward for his recapture, Nevison
remained at large for 4 years.
Once apprehended, the trial judge showed no mercy - Nevison
was sentenced to hang at Tyburn, near London.
On the morning of March 15th, 1685 Nevison mounted the scaffold.
He gave a speech to the huge crowd that had gathered in which he asked for forgiveness
for his crimes and warned others not to follow in his path.
Having said his piece, the hangman despatched "Swift Nick".
The body was buried at St. Mary Church, York, in an unmarked
grave.
The menace on the roof:
A tale told in coaching days has been updated and is still told today.
Originally the tale went like this...
A coach was travelling along the Great North Road with
a young married couple aboard. Midway between towns the coach lost a wheel, and
the coachmen decided to walk on to the next stop to summon help.
The couple inside the coach were quite happy at first to be
left alone. Darkness began to fall and the night grew cold.
Impatient at the long delay, and fearing his new wife would
get a chill, the husband decided to walk a little way up the road himself and
watch for the coachmen whilst there was still light to see by.
The lady sat alone, keeping warm as best she could. After some
time she became anxious for her husband's return, but feared the inky darkness
outside.
She was soon reassured when she heard voices approaching. Her
relief turned to alarm when she heard shouts and the sounds of running men.
Someone jumped up on the roof of the coach and it began to
sway alarmingly, then loud thumps above threatened to bring the roof down upon
her.
Scrambling to the window she was dazzled by the light of many
lamps, and she shaded her eyes with her hand. Then a voice, from what seemed a
crowd, called to her,
" Miss! You must open the door slowly and walk towards
the light. On no account look behind you!"
Trembling she opened the door and on unsteady legs walked towards
the silent lamp-bearers. When almost to them, she turned to look back at the coach.
There on the roof, caught in the lamp light, crouched a man.
His features were horribly twisted with rage and his eyes were the wild red unseeing
eyes of a raving lunatic.
As she watched, the snapped chains from the manacles at his
wrists began to flayed about him, as he banged her husband's severed head on the
roof of the coach.
In the modern version the coach has become a car that has run
out of petrol, but the story remains the same.
The owd lad:
In bygone days Nottinghamshire folk using the road would like to get home before
dark as they might encounter the "Owd Lad", the Devil himself in his
black coach and four.
One old carrier is said have seen it drive past him, "all
on fire like brimstone, pulled by four skeleton horses".
Another legend has it that on moonlit nights a coach and six,
driven by a headless coachman, conveying a headless richly dressed nobleman, is
seen rattling down the road at a furious pace.
The coach, horses and headless phantoms then vanish as suddenly
as they appeared.
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