The so-called “Miners’ Trod”, with Cold Moor rising beyond it, cuts a broad, unsightly scar along the hillside courtesy of the forestry workers. The path’s name comes from the nineteenth-century jet-miners, though it is unlikely they were its first users. That large boulder to the left bears the date “1772” and a scatter of initials, some modern, others older. One wonders who carved it, and why.
- George III sat on the throne, Lord North directed affairs, and the British Empire was about to lose its grip on the American colonies. That year, James Cook left Plymouth on his second voyage into the Pacific and Lord Mansfield delivered the ruling in the Somersett Case, declaring that slavery was unsupported by common law in England.
And in May of that same year, one Jonathan Britain, born near Thirsk, was hanged for fraud and forgery. He was no martyr and no victim of circumstance, but he did not lack intellect. Born into poverty, his talents were obvious from the start. An errand boy to a York attorney, he became a clerk, then a schoolteacher. Each step offered promise; each one bored him. Restless, he joined the 10th Dragoons. There, praise went to his head. He spent what he did not have and filled the gap with deception1Extract of a letter from Bristol, dated May 16. Leeds Intelligencer – 26 May 1772. https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/bl/0000236/17720526/017/0004?noTouch=true2“Some particulars of the life and death of Jonathan Britain, who was executed in Bristol, for forgery, on Friday May 15, 1772. By a gentleman who attended him. With a preface by the Rev. Mr. Rouquet. 1772.” https://archive.org/details/bim_eighteenth-century_some-particulars-of-the-_gentleman-who-attended-h_1772/page/n5/mode/2up.
His descent was swift. He forged documents, adopted false identities, and hoodwinked his way from Bristol to London. When cornered, he grew theatrical. He wrote to the King and the Lord Mayor, inventing French-backed plots to burn Portsmouth dockyard. He offered to reveal his fellow conspirators if the Crown would publish a pardon. The authorities, more curious than convinced, played along. A notice appeared in The London Gazette. Britain took this as licence to reappear. He went to Reading, met his wife, and resumed forgery.
Eventually he was caught and imprisoned. From his cell, he continued spinning tales, now accusing Lord Mansfield and several earls of treason. His story drew attention but collapsed under scrutiny. Visitors came, listened, doubted, left coins anyway. His charm outlasted his credibility.
The crime that sealed his fate was simple. In 1771, he posed as his cousin, Jonathan Unthank, writing from Ireland to an aunt near Northallerton. She sent him £10, thinking him her son. He asked for more. Soon after, in Bristol, he forged a £5 note, persuaded a man called Sandall to endorse it, and exchanged it for cash. When the forgery came to light, Sandall had to pay the debt.
At trial, Britain refused to plead, clinging to the Gazette notice as if it were holy writ. The recorder reminded him of the law: refusal meant automatic guilt. Britain stalled for two days. Once shown the Act in print, he relented, pleaded not guilty, and defended himself in court. He cross-examined well, but the evidence was plain. He was sentenced to death and hanged on 15 May 1772.
So much in a date carved into stone. Most who walk past it notice little. Fewer still fall down its gaping rabbit hole.
- 1Extract of a letter from Bristol, dated May 16. Leeds Intelligencer – 26 May 1772. https://www.britishnewspaperarchive.co.uk/viewer/bl/0000236/17720526/017/0004?noTouch=true
- 2“Some particulars of the life and death of Jonathan Britain, who was executed in Bristol, for forgery, on Friday May 15, 1772. By a gentleman who attended him. With a preface by the Rev. Mr. Rouquet. 1772.” https://archive.org/details/bim_eighteenth-century_some-particulars-of-the-_gentleman-who-attended-h_1772/page/n5/mode/2up
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