Medieval York, with 9,000 inhabitants, grew rich on the wool trade and became England’s second city. Henry VIII used the city’s fine Minster as the northern capital of his Anglican Church. In today’s Anglican Church, the Archbishop of York is second only to the Archbishop of Canterbury.
In the Industrial Age, York was the railway hub of northern England. When it was built in 1877, York’s train station was the world’s largest. During World War II, the station suffered an aerial bombardment. In response to Allied bombing of historic German towns, the Nazis unleashed the “Baedeker raids,” bombing English cities – including York – that were described as the most historic and beautiful in the leading German guidebook of the day.
Today, York feels like a big, traffic-free amusement park for adults. Its leading industry is tourism. It seems like everything that’s great about Britain finds its best expression in this manageable town. While the city has no single claim to fame, York is more than the sum of its parts. With its strollable cobbles and half-timbered buildings, grand cathedral and excellent museums, thriving restaurant scene and welcoming locals, York delights.
We started our morning amble by visiting St. Mary’s Abbey. This abbey dates to the age of William the Conqueror – whose harsh policies (called the “Harrowing of the North”) consisted of massacres and destruction, including the burning of York’s main church.
His son, Rufus, who tried to improve relations in the 11th century, established a great church here. The church became an abbey that thrived from the 13th century until the Dissolution of the Monasteries in the 16th century.
The Dissolution, which accompanied the Protestant Reformation and break with Rome, was a power play by Henry VIII. The king wanted much more than just a divorce: He wanted the land and riches of the monasteries. Upset with the pope, he demanded that his subjects pay him taxes rather than give the Church tithes.
As we wandered the ruins, it was easy to imagine magnificent abbeys like this scattered throughout the realm. We’ve already seen a large number during our adventure. Henry VIII destroyed most of them, taking the lead from their roofs and leaving the stones to scavenging townsfolk.
Scant as they are today, these ruins still evoke a time of immense monastic power. The one surviving wall was the west half of a very long, skinny nave. The tall arch marked the start of the transept. One can stand on a nearby plaque that reads “Crossing beneath the central tower” and look up at the air that now fills the space where a huge tower once stood. Right next door there is the Yorkshire Museum where more carved stonework from the ruined abbey is on display.
Wandering thru the park surrounding the ruins, we walk thru rows of yew trees. Did you know that York means “place of the yew trees”? Thru a gate we come to our next stop – the Multangular Tower. This 12-sided tower from around 300 AD was likely a catapult station build to protect the town from enemy river traffic.
The red ribbon of bricks was a Roman trademark – both structural and decorative. The lower stones are Roman, while the upper (and bigger) stones are medieval. After Rome fell, York suffered through two centuries of a dark age. Then, in the ninth century, the Vikings ruled. They built with wood, so almost nothing from that period remains. The Normans came in 1066 and built in stone, generally atop Roman structures (like this wall).
The wall that defined the ancient Roman garrison town worked for the Norman town, too. But after the English Civil War in the 1600s and Jacobite rebellions in the 1700s (Britain’s last internal conflicts), fortified walls were no longer needed in the country’s interior.
We leave the tower by taking a small pathway between the Abbot’s Palace and the city wall – called a “snickelway” – a small, characteristic York lane or footpath. The snickelway pops out on Exhibition Square. With Henry VIII’s Dissolution of the Monasteries, the abbey was destroyed and the Abbot’s Palace became the King’s Manor.
One would enter the manor under the coat of arms of Charles I, who stayed here during the English Civil War in the 1640s. Today, the building is part of the University of York. Because the northerners were slow to embrace the king’s reforms, Henry VIII came here to personally enforce the Dissolution.
He stayed 17 days in this mansion and brought along 1,000 troops to make his determination clear. You can normally wander into the grounds and building… but due to COVID restrictions we were unable to. The Square in front of the Manor – Exhibition Square – is the departure point for various walking and bus tours. The guy in the center of the square – William Etty – deserves some special attention. It was Mr. Etty that provided the leadership to save the city walls and put the train station outside the walls, thus retaining the character that we enjoy today.
Across the street is one of the fourth-century Roman gates in York’s wall (this one faced Scotland) – Bootham Bar.
Climbing Bootham Bar brings us to the top of the city wall. York’s 13th-century walls are three miles long. This stretch follows the original Roman wall. We were able to capture some very nice pictures into the backyards of some of the mansions that back up to the wall (including where we are staying)and a nice video. We’ll put up a separate post of our walk on top of the walls of York. 🙂
After climbing down from the wall, we turn right onto Ogleforth – the street that our hotel is found on. “Ogle” is the Norse word for owl, hence our word “ogle” – to look at something fiercely. 🙂
Walking down Ogleforth allows quite a bit of “ogling”, as this charming little brick street is lined by many charming little historic homes, such as the 17th century Dutch House and Treasurer House.
As one works there way down this lane, one can peek into the back courtyards of the mansions. The picture of Jackie in front of our hotel (last post) is an example. Often times, tranquil gardens await. If you are able to poke your head into one of these, you will find pint-sized walled oasis that make the city bustle slip away.
Ogleforth/Chapter House Street circles around to the backside of the Minster and opens onto a nice park with coffee shops and place to relax and people watch.
Jackie and I took advantage of a nice table to grab a cupcake snack and a beverage to enjoy a sunny afternoon.
After recharging, we circled around the back of the minster, past the stonemasons’ lodge – where craftsmen are chiseling local limestone for the church, as has been done here since the 13th century. Soon we come to a statue of Roman Emperor Constantine and an ancient Roman column.
Take a good look at the lounging Constantine. Five emperors visited York when it was the Roman city of Eboracum. Constantine was here when his father died. The troops declared him the Roman emperor in AD 306 at this site, and six years later, he went to Rome to claim his throne. In AD 312 Constantine legalized Christianity, and in AD 314, York got its first bishop.
The ancient column – just across the street from Constantine, is a reminder that the Minster sits upon the site of the Roman headquarters, or principia. The city placed this column here in 1971, just before celebrating the 1,900th anniversary of the founding of Eboracum – a.k.a. York.
We now wander up to the star of the show – the Minster. It deserves it’s own post – and that is what it’s going to get – along with probably the most extensive video I’ve done to date. Watch for the post soon.
We now head into the town center. We take a narrow pedestrian walkway – which becomes Stonegate – into the tangled commercial center of medieval York. This street is lined with fun and inviting cafes, pubs and restaurants.
Soon we duck into another of York’s “Snickelways”. This is a made-up York word combining “snicket” (a passageway between walls or fences), “ginnel” (a narrow passageway between buildings), and “alleyway” (any narrow passage) – snickelway. York – with its population packed densely inside its protective walls – has about 50 of these public passages. In general, when exploring the city, you should duck into these – both for the adventure and to take a shortcut. While some of York’s history has been bulldozed by modernity, bits of it hide and survive in the snickelways.
We head down Swinegate to a market. This is the Shambles Market, popular for cheap produce and clothing. Just off the center, tiny “Little Shambles” lane dead-ends into the most famous lane in York.
The Shambles was once the “Street of the butchers.” The name was derived from “shammell” – a butcher’s bench upon which he’d cut and display his meat. In the 16th century, this lane was dripping with red meat. You can still see the hooks – once used to hang rabbit, pheasant, beef, lamb, and pig’s heads – under the eaves.
Fresh slabs were displayed on the fat sills, while people lived above the shops. All the garbage and sewage flushed down the street to a mucky pond at the end – a favorite hangout for the town’s cats and dogs. Tourist shops now fill these fine, half-timbered Tudor buildings. Look above the modern crowds and storefronts to appreciate the classic old English architecture. While fires gutted most old English town centers, York’s old town survives intact. London would have looked like this before its devastating fire in 1666. The soil here isn’t great for building; notice how the structures have settled in the absence of a solid foundation.
We poked our head into and paid our respects at the shrine of St. Margaret Clitherow, a 16th-century Catholic crushed by Protestants under her own door (as was the humiliating custom when a city wanted to teach someone a lesson). She was killed for refusing to testify about hiding priests in her home. The tiny shrine is a place for a peaceful moment with all the bustle outside… and a place to ponder Margaret, who in 1970 was sainted for her faith.
The Shambles reminds many of Diagon Alley in Harry Potter films. While this lane inspired the set design (and the establishment of several Harry Potter shops at the bottom end of the lane, no filming was ever done here.
With blood and guts from The Shambles’ 20 butchers all draining down the lane, it’s no wonder The Golden Fleece, just below, is considered the most haunted pub in town. 🙂
Hope you enjoyed our stroll. Watch for future posts on the Wall of York and York Minster.