APTER XI

_The Forest and Vale in Georgian Times, 1714 to 1837_

With the accession of King George the First in 1714 we commence a new
section of the history of Pickering, a period notable in its latter years
for the sweeping away to a very large extent of the superstitions and
heathen practices which had survived until the first quarter of the
nineteenth century.

The town had probably altered very little in its general appearance since
the time of the Restoration. Most of the roofs were thatched; the castle
was probably more dismantled within the outer walls, but the church of the
Georgian period must have been almost identically the same as during the
century that preceded it, and as it remained until the restoration in
1879.

At the top of the market-place stood the stocks at the side of the old
stone-built shambles that disappeared in 1857, having for many generations
formed a background to the groups of buyers and sellers in the steep and
picturesque street. We can people the scene with the quaint costumes of
the eighteenth century; knee-breeches and long waistcoats are to be seen
in every direction, the three-cornered hat and the wig tied with a black
ribbon are worn by the better classes. The wives and daughters of the
squires and lesser gentry reflect in a modified form the fashions
prevailing in London, and to be observed in actuality among the gay crowds
that thronged the Spa at Scarborough, assuming and discarding the
hooped-petticoat according to the mode of the moment. We can see the
farmers of the Vale and those from the lonely dales discussing the news of
the week and reading the scarce and expensive newspapers that found their
way to Pickering. How much they understood of the reasons for the great
European wars and alliances it is not easy to say, but when the reports
came of victories to the British armies, assisted although they may have
been by paid allies, the patriotic feelings of these Yorkshiremen did not
fail to manifest themselves in a heavier consumption of beer than usual.
We can hear the chink of glasses and the rattle of pewter tankards in the
cosy parlours of the "White Swan," the "George," and the rest; we can hear
as the years go by the loud cheers raised for Marlborough, for Wolfe, for
Nelson, or for Wellington, while overhead the church bells are ringing
loudly in the old grey tower. These were the days of the highwaymen, and
even as late as 1830 a postman was robbed near the moor