A new exhibition in the cells at York Castle Museum tells gruesome tales of the building’s 18th century inmates  – including Dick Turpin. Tony Greenway gets thrown behind bars to find out more . . .

Project researcher Dr Katherine Prior: “Prison life in the 18th century was brutal and harsh”

When I meet Dr Katherine Prior in the bowels of York Castle Museum, she looks around in awe. “This place,” she says, “has always been a major tourist attraction.”

Well, surely not always, I say. Originally, it was a prison building and its dank, dark and cramped basement cells held some of England’s most notorious criminals.

“No,” insists Katherine. “As soon as the prison opened in 1705, it became a morbid tourist attraction. The felons, whether they had been convicted or not, would exercise in the front courtyard. There was a big wall around the whole complex so they couldn’t get out, but there was also a big gate where the public would congregate. If you wanted a day out, you could come here and watch the felons through the bars.”

This month, a major new permanent exhibition, researched by Katherine, opens at York Castle Museum following a £200,000 refurbishment. Called “York Castle Prison”, it will show how the county’s thieves, killers, debtors and assorted rogues – including Dick Turpin – survived or expired in primitive, inhuman surroundings.

Visitors will be able to “meet” historical characters, thanks to the latest audio visual technology; and, by winding through the cramped cells, learn about their horrible crimes and terrible punishments.   The cells will be dark and eerie, with the sound of keys, chains and prisoners echoing around the corridor.

“Until 1780, there was no running water in here,” explains Katherine, a freelance historian and museum curator, “so a jail servant would bring in buckets of water for the felons. It was a fact of life that prisoners got the best service if they slipped staff money.”

The prison certainly wasn’t going to be mistaken for the Ritz. One room, measuring 24 ft by 16 ft, had 80 people in it. There was straw for bedding, no water, no windows, and just a slit in the wall for air.

“There are terrible descriptions of what the room smelt like when it was opened in the morning,” says Katherine. “Felons had to go outside into the courtyard during the day . . .  and in all weathers, too, which was a problem because the yard faces north and it’s freezing.

“If there was disease here, such as smallpox or typhus, it spread like wildfire and there were a lot of deaths.”

This exhibition, then, isn’t a laugh-a-minute. But it is ghoulishly fascinating and shocking; as are Katherine’s stories – which she relates with infectious enthusiasm. For instance, felons had to pay a fee coming in and another one going out – even if they had been acquitted.

“If they couldn’t pay,” says Katherine, “they had to wait here until someone gave them the money. It was an entirely commercial enterprise.”

Upstairs was the debtors’ prison, but down below was where the hardened criminals were kept. Mind you, even here, there was a pay-as-you-go honours system which could get would-be convicts out of the clink – for a while at least.

“If you were awaiting trial and had enough cash to give the jailer, he might let you into town for a drink at the alehouse,” says Katherine. “In the 18th century, prison wasn’t as strict as it is now. It was brutal and it was harsh; but prisoners had more rights than you might think. And money could buy a lot of privileges . . . although, if you were convicted of murder, you were hanged pretty quickly.”

Prisoners on the treadmill at the Debtors Prison

Surely, though, there must have been prisoners who told the jailer they were “just popping into town for a beer” but then promptly made a dash for it? “They could try to run,” says Katherine, “but if they were caught and found guilty, it was highly likely they would be sentenced to death, rather than transportation.”

And by “transportation”, Katherine means a long boat trip to the Americas or Australia. She sees the humour in this, because she is an Australian herself (“It all goes back there in the end,” she laughs).

Unfairly, a convict could sit in York Prison for seven years waiting for transportation, but their sentence wouldn’t officially start until their boat ride began.

Men and women were imprisoned in the same building, with some female prisoners awaiting trial for infanticide. If they were found guilty, they knew they would be sentenced to death – but not, says Katherine, if they were pregnant. “So it was a good idea to get pregnant again,” she says, “generally by a member of the jail staff.

“Women realised that being with child could save them from the gallows. We know of several cases of babies staying behind to grow up in the jail while their mothers were transported to the Americas; and, when they are 13 or 14, given an apprenticeship of some kind.

“For example, one prison-born youngster was taken to Whitby to be given an apprenticeship as a ship’s boy – so it really was an entire community living here.”

As part of the tour, visitors will even be able to look up their surname to see if any of their ancestors could have been imprisoned there.

One of the restored cells which will be open to the public in the new exhibition at York Castle Museum

One of York Prison’s most infamous inmates was Dick Turpin. As we now know, Turpin wasn’t the romantic dandy highwayman of folklore – he was a psychopathic thug, who enjoyed torturing and killing people; and, ironically, he was finally incarcerated after causing a minor affray in Brough.

Initially he was kept in a House of Correction in Beverley, hiding under an assumed name; but before long his true identity was uncovered and he was transferred to York – and certain death.

“Once the Yorkshire authorities discovered they had the most wanted criminal in England, they were cock-a-hoop,” says Katherine. “Turpin lived quite a good life while he was here, but he was sentenced to hang on 7th April 1739 on the Knavesmire.

“Hanging was a long, painful death which could take 30 minutes, because the hanged man didn’t drop through a trapdoor; he was left dangling on a short rope.

“One account tells of the ‘bravery’ of Turpin because he leapt off the ladder, rather than waiting for it to be pulled away. Well, that was very sensible because he stood a chance of breaking his neck and meeting a quick end.”

Mary Bateman – aka the “Yorkshire Witch” – was another famous prisoner. “She was from Leeds and a pathological liar and thief who had a money-making scam of telling people’s fortunes and predicting the future,” says Katherine. “She sold charms, but gave a couple some magic potions which killed the wife and made the husband seriously ill. That case created a sensation at the time.

“Then there was Elizabeth Bordingham, who lived in Hull for a while. She persuaded her lover to murder her husband and was sentenced to death for the crime of petty treason. She was the last woman in England to be burnt at the stake – and, remember, this was in the late 18th century!

“It was supposed to be a humane death, because you were garrotted to death first, and then set on fire.”

We’d hate to hear what the inhumane deaths were like.

Katherine has enjoyed working on the York Castle Prison project and admits to uncovering far more material than the exhibition could ever display. “When you start work on a project, you always hope there will be an embarrassment of riches in the archives,” she says, “but this time there really is.

“The stories we’ve found make the building come alive. You can really imagine what it was like existing down here, and it puts the building in the context of Yorkshire’s history – and Britain's history. I’ve been fascinated by it.”

The “York Castle Prison” exhibition at York Castle Museum opens from 17th July and is included in normal museum admission charges. The museum opens from 9:30am to 5pm daily. Admission is £7.50 for adults, £6.50 for concessions and £4 for children (under fives free). For more visitor information, telephone 01904 687687 or log on to www.yorkcastlemuseum.org.uk