The Ghost of Stokesley Town End

Yet another tale spun by the industrious quill of Cleveland’s venerable chronicler, Richard Blakeborough. This piece has lingered on my to-do list, biding its time for a fitting photograph. Regrettably, my patience has waned. Let this image of Aireyholme and Cliff Rigg suffice. Look closely, and the roof tops of Stokesley reveal themselves in the distant, bathing in the embrace of Autumn’s sunshine.

The story is of the Ghost of Stokesley Town End which appeared in the Northern Weekly Gazette on 13th October, 1900¹‘‌The Ghost of Stokesley Town End’ | Northern Weekly Gazette | Saturday 13 October 1900 | British Newspaper Archive’. 2022. Britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk <https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/BL/0003075/19001013/089/0007> [accessed 20 September 2022]. Once again clicking on the footnotes will reveal my attempt toward a contemporary interpretation of the North Yorkshire vernacular employed by Blakeborough in his dialogues.

‌The Ghost of Stokesley Town End.

One of the widely-known witches, who openly avowed herself possessed of certain occult powers, was Mary Marshall, of Stokesley. Mary was alive within the ken of a few folk now living. What it was that she did to bring upon herself the judgment of Heaven I have never been able to discover, but that she was “God-struck” was at one time looked upon as a well-established fact, she being condemned to crow like a cock, three times, whenever a hen crossed her path. However, this is a detail which is in no way connected with the “Town End Ghost.“

It when Mary Marshall about sixty years-of age that a strange thing happened, an event which set the tongues of the local gossips awagging for many a day.

Early one morning a labourer, when going to his work, found a woman hanging by the neck from one of the trees then growing in a lane which runs at the back of the gasworks. When cut down, the dead woman was at recognised as Mrs Wood, a well-known and highly-respected native of Stokesley. The body was quite cold, and she must have been dead a couple of hours.

What had brought about such a sad end to a useful life none could imagine. Of course, she was buried in unconsecrated ground. (So says the legend; but this must be a mistake, because the jury returned a verdict of wilful murder against the husband, but more of this anon.)

The Sunday afternoon brought crowds of people from all parts, filled with the morbid desire of gazing upon the place, and a foot or two of rope dangling from a tree.

It is wonderful from what small things great events arise. Amongst those who came to feast their eyes was a half-witted chap called Billy Skillbeck, a native of Broughton. One of those present happened to ask Billy what he thought about the suicide.

“Why,” said Billy, “I aim ‘at Stowsla wimin is a good deal cleverer ‘an what the Broughton wimin is, acoz wa heven’t gitten a woman in all our toon ‘at could git herson up theer an’ hang herson without somebody ‘ed gi’en her a leg up.” ²I reckon women from Stokesley are a lot cleverer than women from Broughton. We haven’t got a woman in our town who could get herself up there and hang herself without someone giving her a leg up. Billy’s answer was overheard by several Broughtonians standing by. In fact, so far as we can now learn, it was the people of that village who first suggested the idea of foul play in connection with Mrs Wood’s death.

Presently rumours of the wildest and most unreasonable character began to be whispered. All kinds of unheard of surmises were freely canvassed, until in the end it was fully and freely admitted that it was an absolute impossibility for any woman to have hung herself, as, in the first rush of excitement, Mrs Wood was supposed to have done. At this point we are met with two versions. On the one hand we are told that the body was exhumed, and then the discovery was made that the skull was fractured. On the other hand we are assured that this discovery was made previous to the coroner’s inquest, and that it was the very fact of a woman having been discovered hanging in a tree with a fractured skull, which led the arrest of the husband, and this story seems the most reasonable. However, it is of no moment which of these is correct, as both admit the fracture. It has already been said that the husband was tried for murder of his wife, and he would to a certainty have swung by the neck had not a Mr Morton sworn that from seven o’clock on the evening of the day Mrs Wood was murdered until after eleven o’clock the same night, the accused man had been in his (Morton’s) house; and, further, that he (Morton) had then walked back with the accused to his own house, and as Mrs Wood was not within, Wood had invited him to sit and smoke a pipe in the kitchen until his wife returned. At that time he (Morton) understood that Mrs Wood was in a neighbour’s house, who was expecting an increase in her family; and, lastly, that he (Morton) did not leave Wood’s house until a few minutes before the man rushed in with the sad news that Mrs Wood was hanging by the neck in the back lane. Morton’s evidence saved Wood, and that was all. The accused man returned to Stokesley, but the good people were shy; they felt that he was guilty; many, in fact, told him so, and that Morton had sworn falsely.

For some time Wood tried to brave it out, but he grew thin and haggard. At last he sold everything be possessed to Morton, and vanished, one knew whither.

Why Morton so stoutly and stubbornly stuck to the theory that Mrs Wood committed suicide was, and for ever remained, a mystery. In those days it was only needful for anyone to mention Woods, for Morton at once to expound the theory. He never missed an opportunity; he would say, “I’ll just tell you how she managed it; it is quite simple. She took the old mare out, stood upon its back, tied the rope to a bough, slipped the noose over her head, gave the old mare a kick, and off it went, leaving her swinging by the neck.” The fractured skull he accounted for by saying that when cut down the body fell to the ground, the injury having been caused in that way.

Although this wonderful explanation of the mystery was never heard of until after the trial, there were a few who always, as the Yorkshire saying aptly puts it:

“Sing the last new song” or “Ride the last horse as if it was the winner.“

It was all very well for Morton to boast that he had solved the mystery. Most folk let him think so, few daring to contradict him: he was a man well-to-do in the world, rich, but greedy: ay, greedy unto sinfulness. There were those who whispered that Morton had made a very good thing out of Wood’s trouble. And it was more than likely that he did, for he was just that kind of man who most men dislike and all women feared, save one, this one was Mary Marshall the witch.

It was at Trinity races, bestriding a somewhat spirited mare, Morton was prancing about, either Mary got in his way or he in hers. Anyway, he chose to consider the witch in the wrong, so he shouted

“Now, then, spawn of the devil, get out of my way, or I’ll break your back for ye, d’ye hear?“

To which rude summons Mary very quietly replied “As thee tumm’les fra thi hoss, so shall thou come doon i’ t’ wo’lld, As thi hoss gallops fra thee, so shall thi fortun.“³As you tumble from the horse, so shall you come down in the world. As the horse gallops away from you, so shall your fortune. (This prediction absolutely fulfilled. He died a pauper.) Barely were the words uttered ere the horse suddenly shied, throwing Morton to the ground, with so great a force that his leg was broken, and collar bone dislocated.

“Thoo’ll a’e time ti think things ower a bit, and thoo’ll see summat ‘at’ll set tha thinking afoot thoo stan’s on thy twa feet again. Think on. A twelvemonth hasn’t gone by yet sen Mary war sided by.” ⁴You’ll have time to ponder on things and eventually come across something that will get you back on your feet. Take your time. It hasn’t been a year since Mary passed away. When Morton had been carried off the field, someone asked the witch what she meant by saying “that Morton’s fortune would gallop away?” for everyone knew the sole object of the injured man was to accumulate wealth, not dissipate it.

“Nowt na mair ‘an what I’ve said, but if it’ll mak’ it ony plainer, he’ll be glad of a cast away crust afoor he does. As to what I meant by twelve month edn’t passed sin Mary Wood was sided by (buried) he weeant a’e ti wait verra lang aloor he finds that oot. And mark you,” continued the witch, “there is them as’ll find it cut as well as him. I mean them wha have spoken ill of poor Mary, who never harmed a soul in her life, but she’ll lead ’em a nice dance yet. You mark my words, her time ‘ll come! Ay, her time ‘ll come!“⁵I haven’t said anything more than what I’ve already said, but to make it clearer, he would be happy to have a small amount of money before he leaves. When I mentioned that it’s been almost a year since Mary Wood was buried, he won’t have to wait much longer before he realizes why she left. And let me tell you, those who spoke badly about Mary, who never did anything wrong to anyone, will also face the consequences. Just wait and see, she will have her revenge. and without another word, Mary Marshall left them to talk over and solve mysterious words as fancy dictated.

One thing was quite evident; at the expiration of twelve months Mary Wood’s spirit was coming again. One and all returned home knowing that ere many weeks had passed “Mary would walk.” Morton recovered sooner than his friends had reason to expect; but there were those who feared that Mary would cast a spell on him, and throw him back again. In fact, so fearful was Morton’s wife that the witch might either “eye him,” “look back at him over her left shoulder,” or “spite herself upon him” in some way, that she actually went to her, and humbly begged her not to work him ill.

“Nay!” said Mary, “there is no need for me to harm him; he nobbut wants rope, missus, he nobbut wants rope, and he’ll hang his own good luck; gan yer ways back, missus, yer man’s brass was safe, whahl he dropped blood-money inti t’ bag, sen then, he’s nobbut held yah string; t’ divil ho’ds t’other.” ⁶No! I have no reason to harm him. He simply needs a rope. If we provide him with one, he’ll bring his own good luck and hang himself. Go back, ma’am. Your husband’s money was safe until he put the blood-stained money in the bag. Since then, he’s been caught in a trap, and the devil holds the other end of the string.

It might be a week, certainly not more than a fortnight after the expiration of the twelve months, as notified by the witch, that Morton asked a few friends in for a game at cards, a form of recreation of which he was passionately fond.

On this occasion the party broke up quite early, Morton saying he was a bit bothered and out of sorts that evening, and hardly knew what he was after. He requested two of his friends to stay behind, on account of some special business he wished to talk over with them.

Everyone had observed that he was a bit queer that night, and those who had unfortunately been his partners knew something was wrong with him to their loss: for they never won a game.

When he and his two friends were seated by the fireside, he told them a very queer story. He said that as he was driving home from Swainby that evening, and just after he had crossed Leven Bridge⁷Bense Bridge, the figure of a woman, whom he recognised as Mrs Wood, jumped on the of his cart and seated himself upon some empty sacks by his side, remaining seated and staring at him for over a mile, and then she vanished.

He was greatly agitated whilst recounting his mysterious experience, and wished to know if they could suggest what was meant by her spirit form thus appearing to him?

One of his companions bluntly enquired “if he really was anxious to learn what folks thought and said?“

“Ay!” said he, striving to assume a careless tone, “let’s hear how the gossip’s tongues wag.“

“Why they wag none to your favour, I can tell you; for it’s the common talk that you did not speak the truth at the trial, and that you kept back a great deal which if it had been told would most likely have left Wood hanging by the neck. And while I am telling you straight I might as well tell you that I don’t think that you believe, any more than I do, that Mrs Wood hanged herself. Now then, you asked me to speak plainly, and I’ve done so.“

“And I am of the opinion,” declared the other friend, who had strayed behind.

On hearing two friends both speak in favour of the poor woman’s innocence Morton commenced, in a boisterous manner, “I tell what it is; I thought you two were friends of mine; d’ye know that what you have just said is as good as saying that I swore falsely. I tell you that I know for a fact that she hanged herself. She — ” and then he ceased speaking; his lips moved, but not a sound, not even a whisper passed between them, his face had suddenly grown ashy pale, his hands shook terribly, as his fingers fairly gripped the arms of his chair. Turning their heads in the direction in which Morton’s startled eyes were gazing, the two friends beheld Mrs Wood standing just within the room.

“Keep her off! Keep her off! don’t let her touch me!” shouted Morton, fearfully agitated, the moment he recovered his speech.

Little use was it appealing to his two friends, for the sudden appearance of the spirit of the dead woman in their midst had terrified them as much as Morton himself. The two just remained rooted to the spot. Slowly the spectre crossed the floor, until within a few feet of Morton, who by this time sat in his chair a pitiable object — helpless, speechless, and as pale as death itself. Face to face at last, for a few brief moments, mortal and spirit gazed upon each other, then turning to the two friends, the spectre pointed at Morton, shook her head in the negative, and then gradually disappeared, so gradually that neither of them knew for certain just when the last of her was to be seen.

“Great Heavens!” gasped Morton, “but that was awful. What did she mean by pointing at me? I never harmed the woman in her life, never, I’ll swear it!“

“Mebbe not,” said one of his friends, “but did you harm her after death?“

As this question was asked. a long deep sigh was distinctly audible to all three. A sigh, the twain remarked, which seemed to say: “Ay, but that is what he dare not answer.“

From that night Morton knew no peace, the spectre gave him no rest. He could not go into one of the out-buildings after dark, but she was at his side. Then she began to frighten his servants, until in the end, neither boy nor girl would stay or be hired to come about the place. But the spectre didn’t stop at this, she now began to turn her attention to those who had so stubbornly maintained that she had committed suicide. She cultivated a nasty habit of popping in unawares, at all sorts of odd and inconvenient times, and playing pranks which no properly behaved ghost, or one with becoming respect for clean firesides or bright black leading, would ever have thought of doing, but it is left on record that Mrs Wood as a spectre turned frying pans wrong side up, throwing the fat about in a most careless manner, upset kettles, prevented bread from rising, although the precaution had been duly taken of setting the dough before the fire with a bottle of hot water in the middle of it, she frightened several children into convulsions who were cutting their teeth; and it has been handed down to the present day as an indisputable fact, that she killed a duck and a buck rabbit, the property of Anty Marwood, by means which remain undiscovered to the present day. But these attentions, if we may dare to write such a statement, were but a little pleasant diversion, indulged in by the spectre, between the other and more serious business of keeping Mr Morton alive, or rather nearly killing him. He, poor wretch, became but a wreck of his former self. To drown his sorrow, trouble, or whatever you care to name his affliction, he took to drinking, and very speedily became a besotted drunkard. His wife died broken-hearted, his farm was neglected, and in the end he was sold up, and left to walk Stokesley streets a dirty drink stained beggar.

Then the spectre set to work in real earnest to wreak her vengeance upon all those who had maligned her character after death. Her first appearance, which caused a sensation, was immediately after a confession which Morton had made, “that he had sworn falsely. He admitted that Wood had murdered his wife, that he, Morton, had caught him hanging her up in a tree, and that he had agreed to save him from the hangman, on Wood promising to sell him two horses for twenty pounds, either of them being worth considerably more than he paid for the two.“

This confession of Morton’s, made whilst in a drunken fit, spread like wildfire through the place.

To one house whither the report was brought, the inmates were in the midst of all the excitement belonging to a wedding feast.

The bride’s parents were amongst those who had always held that Mrs Wood had hung herself. One of the guests, arriving late, mentioned the report which she had just heard, adding that she was “glad that poor Mrs Wood’s name was cleared from all suspicion at last.“

The moment the bride heard this sentiment uttered, she openly announced that “she didn’t believe a word of Morton’s confession; she always had thought, and she should continue to think, that Ann Wood had hanged herself.” Barely had she stated her belief when she fell to the ground with a fearful shriek, and there she lay stiff and insensible for some time. Some hours later, when sufficiently recovered to make a statement, she told those sitting with her, that “so as she lived she would never speak an ill word against Mrs Wood again.” “The moment I had said what did.” she explained, “I felt a cold, yes, very cold hand seize hold of mine, and then I saw Ann Wood gazing into my face with such a pitiful, pleading look, as much as to say ‘how can yen speak so unkindly of me?’ and I never will again.“

And lastly, so wonderful were the demonstrations of the spectre in the house of Robert Jackson, that many doubted the truth of the stories which he and his wife told. It was known that both were amongst those who held the suicide theory.

So marvellous, the story they told immediately after the visitation at the wedding party, that a Mr Fowler, who, by the way, utterly scouted the idea of spectres, one and all, of whom soever they might be, to settle the matter once for all, begged of the Jacksons as a special favour, to allow him to pass the night with husband and wife in their bed-room, that being the usual scene of the spectre’s performances. So far as the Jacksons were concerned, his request, I am informed, most willingly granted.

It is not for me to try and imagine how they arranged matters, I have but to chronicle the fact, that on a certain night, a trifle before twelve o’clock. Mr and Mrs Jackson occupied a bed at one end of the room, and Mr Fowler one at the other, at least I imagine this would be how it was arranged. Fowler was present in a sort of way, in the cause of science, and to do, away with all possibility of trickery, or uncertainty, he demanded (so that the test might be carried out in good faith) that a candle be left burning in the room. This was agreed to, and for security’s sake was placed in the wash-basin. Within an hour from the time that Fowler laid his head upon the Jackson’s pillow, he lad undeniable proof given him, both occular and physical, that every word the Jacksons had uttered was altogether and absolutely tree beyond cavil or doubt.

He certainly had sufficient evidence brought under his immediate notice which would have convinced the vanished understanding of an Egyptian mummy. The story which he told put to everlasting shame the very weak and colourless ones hitherto indulged in by the Jacksons. Said he —

“I do not think it would be more than five minutes past midnight when I saw Ann Wood enter the room. I saw her walk up to Mr and Mrs Jackson’s bed, pull every rag of bedclothes off them, and thou throw them both on to the floor, and before I could apologise for my previous unbelief, ask for forgiveness or crave for mercy, she marched up to me.” Then followed a piece of work on the part of the spectre which should for ever satisfy all remaining unbelievers as to the reality and existence of spooks. Standing in front of Fowler for a few seconds, the spectre squarely looked at him with her sad, lustreless eyes and then gave him a sound smack on the face. This was instantly followed up by that gentlemen being seized by the shirt collar, bundled out of bed, and then, by an energetic series of bounds, bumps, thumps, and leaps, a species of agility not at all consistent with his build and years, shot rock and crop downstairs and through the front door into the street, where he was left standing shivering on the cobble stones in the cold, begging of the Jacksons to chuck his clothes out of the window, he absolutely refusing to enter the house again.

[It may be mentioned that when the story used to be told no part of it was so emphatically insisted upon as Fowler’s experience; and, as at the time, there was abundant evidence that every word uttered was borne out by fact, we are driven to the conclusion that someone, knowing of Fowler’a intentions, for the lark of the thing personated Ann Wood.]

To return to absolute fact. Public opinion now ran in one direction: something must be done to lay Ann’s spirit.

To this end the Catholic priest living at Yarm was sent for, and he publicly prayed Ann’s spirit into a great hole, which he had ordered to be dug. No sooner did he perceive that he had the spectre safely within the hole, than he ordered the bystanders to shovel the earth in at once, he plentifully sprinkling the shovellers, the hole, in fact everything and everybody, with holy water, until it was filled up. He then ran thrice round the mound, took a flying leap on to the top of it, and that seems to have for ever flattened Ann Wood’s spirit. She was never heard of again.

• 1
  ‘‌The Ghost of Stokesley Town End’ | Northern Weekly Gazette | Saturday 13 October 1900 | British Newspaper Archive’. 2022. Britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk <https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/BL/0003075/19001013/089/0007> [accessed 20 September 2022]
• 2
  I reckon women from Stokesley are a lot cleverer than women from Broughton. We haven’t got a woman in our town who could get herself up there and hang herself without someone giving her a leg up.
• 3
  As you tumble from the horse, so shall you come down in the world. As the horse gallops away from you, so shall your fortune.
• 4
  You’ll have time to ponder on things and eventually come across something that will get you back on your feet. Take your time. It hasn’t been a year since Mary passed away.
• 5
  I haven’t said anything more than what I’ve already said, but to make it clearer, he would be happy to have a small amount of money before he leaves. When I mentioned that it’s been almost a year since Mary Wood was buried, he won’t have to wait much longer before he realizes why she left. And let me tell you, those who spoke badly about Mary, who never did anything wrong to anyone, will also face the consequences. Just wait and see, she will have her revenge.
• 6
  No! I have no reason to harm him. He simply needs a rope. If we provide him with one, he’ll bring his own good luck and hang himself. Go back, ma’am. Your husband’s money was safe until he put the blood-stained money in the bag. Since then, he’s been caught in a trap, and the devil holds the other end of the string.
• 7
  Bense Bridge