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LIVES AND EXPLOITS 
 
 OF r//£ MOST NOTED 
 
 HIGH WAY MEN, 
 
 ROBBERS AND MURDERERS, 
 
 OF ALL NATIONS, 
 
 DPAWN PROM THE MOST AUTHENTIC SOURCES 
 
 AND BROUGHT DOWN TO 
 
 ©mm spiEiisiiss's snfflHo 
 
 WITH NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS. 
 
 HARTFORD: 
 
 PUBLISHED BY SILAS ANDRUS & SON. 
 

Uantroii liLniy 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 
 ' Claude Du Vail, 7 
 
 * Sawney Beane, 14 
 
 * Thomas Wynne, 13 
 
 > Thomas Witherington, 22 
 
 * James Batson, » . . . 34 
 
 ^. * Mulled Sack, alias John Cottington, 47 
 
 * Capt. James Hind, 50 
 
 5 The German Princess 61 
 
 *Capt. Dudley, 76 
 
 xr William Nevison 89 
 
 v The Golden Farmer, 99 
 
 * Jonathan Simpson, 104 
 
 v William Cady, 107 
 
 ^X Patrick O'Brian, 114 
 
 * /Thomas Rumbold, 117 
 
 a «Whitney, 4 134 
 
 ^ xTim Buckeley, 144 
 
 C^ *Tom Jones, 147 
 
 * Arthur Chambers, 151 
 
 \ Stephen Bunce, 157 
 
 y Jack Ovet, 164 
 
 yTomDorbel, 169 
 
 r Dick Adams, . 172 
 
 V William Gettings, 176 
 
 KNed Bonnet, 181 
 
 >^ Wih Ogden and Tom Reynolds, 187 
 
 t Jobn Price, 190 
 
 /Jack Shepherd, 194 
 
 y Richard Turpin, 201 
 
 j<Heniy Simms, 216 
 
 .•'James Maclainc, 229 
 
 h Eugene Aram, 245 
 
 X George Barrington, 260 
 
 k James Porter 281 
 
Claude Du Vcui. P. f. 
 
 
/ 
 
CLAUDE DU VALL. 
 
 It might very naturally be objected to us by some, 
 that we should introduce into our work the life of 
 any highwayman, however celebrated, whose fortune 
 it was to have been born in France ; but, without in- 
 sisting upon the celebrity of the person whose life we 
 are about to narrate, it will be sufficient to inform the 
 objecting reader, that many of the adventures achieved 
 by Claude du Vail were performed in England, and 
 that he is accordingly, to all intents and purposes, 
 although a Frenchman by birth, an English high- 
 wayman. 
 
 This noted person was born at Domfront, in Nor- 
 mandy. # His father was a miller, and his mother 
 
 * We find, by reference to an old Life of Du Vail, published in 
 1670, that Domfront was a place by no means unlikely to have pro- 
 duced our adventurer. Indeed, it appears that common honesty was 
 a most uncommon ingredient in the moral economy of the place, as 
 the following curious extract from the work in question will abun- 
 dantly testify : — 
 
 "In the days of Charles IX. the curate of Domfront, (for so the 
 French name him whom we call parson, and vicar,) out of his own 
 head began a strange innovation and oppression in that parish ; that 
 is, he absolutely denied to baptize any of their children, if they would 
 not, at the same time, pay him his funeral fees : and what was worse, 
 he would give them no reason for this alteration, but only promised 
 to enter bond for himself and successors, that hereafter, all persons 
 paying so at their christening should be buried gratis. What think 
 ye the poor people did in this case ? They did not pull his surplice 
 over his ears, nor tear his mass-book, nor throw crickets at his head : 
 no, they humbly desired him to alter his resolutions, and amicably 
 reasoned with him ; but he, being a capricious fellow, gave them no 
 other answer, but ' What I have done, I have done ; take your remedy 
 where you can find it ; it is not for men of my coat to give an 
 account of my actions to the laity ;' which was a surly and quar- 
 relsome answer, and unbefitting a priest. Yet this did not provoke 
 his . parishioners to speak one ill word against his person or function, 
 or to do any illegal act. Tbey only took the regular way erf com 
 
8 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 was descended from a worshipful race of tailors. He 
 was brought up in the Catholic faith, and received an 
 education suited to the profession for which he was 
 intended, — namely, that of a footman. But, although 
 his father was careful to train up his son in the 
 religion of his ancestors, he was himself utterly with- 
 out religion. He talked more of good cheer than of 
 the church ; of sumptuous feasts than of ardent faith ; 
 of good wine than of good works. 
 
 Du ValPs parents were exempted from the trouble 
 and expense of rearing their son at the age of thirteen. 
 We first find him at Rouen, the principal city of Nor- 
 mandy, in the character of a stable-boy. Here he 
 foitunately found retour horses going to Paris: upon 
 one of these he was permitted to ride, on condition 
 of assisting to dress them at night. His expenses were 
 likewise defrayed by some English travellers whom 
 he met upon the road. 
 
 plaining of him to his ordinary, the archbishop of Rouen. Upon 
 summons, he appears : the archbishop takes him up roundly, tells 
 him he deserves deprivation, if that can be proved which is objected 
 against him, and asked^ him what he had to say for himself. After 
 his due reverence, he answers, that he acknowledges the fact, to save 
 the time of examining witnesses ; but desires his grace to hear his 
 reasons, and then do unto him as he shall see cause. ' I have,' 
 says he, ' been curate of this parish seven years ; in that time I have, 
 one year with another, baptized a hundred children, and buried not 
 one. At first I rejoiced at my good fortune to be placed in so good 
 an air ; but, looking into the register-book, I found, for a hundred 
 years back, near the same number yearly baptized, and no one above 
 five years old buried; and which did more amaze me, I find the 
 number of communicants to be no greater now than they were th<:n. 
 This seemed to me a great mystery ; but, upon farther inquiry, I 
 found out the true cause of it ; for all that were born at Domfront. 
 were hanged at Rouen. I did this to keep my parishioners from 
 hanging, encouraging them to die at home, the burial duties being 
 already paid.' 
 
 u The archbishop demanded of the parishioners whether this was 
 true or not. They answered, that too many of them came to that 
 anlucky end at Rouen. ' Well, then,' says he, ' 1 approve of what tne 
 curate has done, and will eause my secretary, in perpetuam rei menu* 
 riam, to make an act of it ;' which act the curate carried home with 
 him, and the parish cheerfully submitted to it, and have found much 
 good by it ; for within less than twenty years, there died fifteen of 
 natural deaths, and now there die three or four yearly." 
 
CLAUDE DU VALL. 9 
 
 Arrived at Paris, he continued at the same inn where 
 the Englishmen put up, and by running messages, or 
 performing the meanest offices, subsisted for a while. 
 He continued in this humble station until the resto- 
 ration of Charles II., when multitudes from the con- 
 tinent resorted to England. In the character of a 
 footman to a person of quality, Du Vail also repaired 
 to England. The universal joy which seized the 
 nation upon that happy event contaminated the morals 
 of all : riot, dissipation, and every species of profligacy 
 abounded. The young and sprightly French footman 
 entered keenly into these amusements. His funds, 
 however, being soon exhausted, he deemed it no 
 great crime for a Frenchman to exact contributions 
 from the English. In a short time, he became so dex- 
 terous in his new employment, that he had the honor 
 of being first named in an advertisement issued for 
 the apprehending of some notorious robbers. 
 
 One day, Du Vail and some others espied a knight 
 and his lady travelling along in their coach. Seeing 
 themselves in danger of being attacked, the lady re- 
 sorted to a flageolet, and commenced playing, which 
 she did very dexterously. Du Vail taking the hint, 
 pulled one out of his pocket, began to play, and in 
 this posture approached the coach. "Sir," said he to 
 the knight, "your lady performs excellently, and I 
 make no doubt she dances well; will you step out 
 of the coach, and let us have the honor to dance a 
 courant with her upon the heath ?" "I dare not deny 
 any thing, sir," replied the knight readily, " to a gen- 
 tleman of your quality and good behavior ; you seem 
 a man of generosity, and your request is perfectly 
 reasonable." Immediately the footman opened the 
 door, and the knight came out. Du Vail leaped lightly 
 off his horse, and handed the lady down. It was 
 surprising to see how gracefully he moved upon the 
 grass : scarcely a dancing-master in London but would 
 have been proud to have shown such agility in a pair 
 of pumps, as Du Vail evinced in a pair of French 
 riding-boots. As soon as the dance was over, he 
 
10 LIVES OF Hier^/YMEN A.ND ROBBER*. 
 
 handed the lady to the ^oich, bu + just as tr.<s ki.i^ht 
 was stepping in, " Sir," said he, u you fchget to pa* 
 the music." His worship replied, that he never forgo* 
 such things, and instantly put his hand under the sea* 
 of the coach, pulled out one hundred pounds in a bag 
 which he delivered to Du Vail, who received it witb 
 a very good grace, and courteously answered, " Sir 
 you are liberal, and shall have no cause to regret you* 
 generosity; this hundred pounds, given so handsomely 
 is better than ten times the sum taken by force. Yoiu 
 noble behavior has excused you the other three hun 
 dred pounds which you have in the coach with you.' 
 After this, he gave him his word that he might pas? 
 undisturbed, if he met any other of his crew, and then 
 wished them a good journey. 
 
 At another time, Du Vail and some of his associate* 
 met a coach upon Blackheath, full of ladies, and » 
 child with them. One of the gang rode up to th* 
 coach, and in a rude manner robbed the ladies of thei» 
 watches and rings, and even seized a silver sucking 
 bottle of the child's. The infant cried bitterly for it** 
 bottle, and the ladies earnestly entreated he would 
 only return that article to the child, which he bar- 
 barously refused. Du Vail went forward to discover 
 what detained his accomplice, and, the ladies re- 
 newing their entreaties to him, he instantly threatened 
 to shoot his companion, unless he returned that article, 
 saying, " Sirrah, can 't you behave like a gentleman 
 and raise a contribution without stripping people? but, 
 perhaps, you had some occasion for the sucking-bottle, 
 for, by your actions, one would imagine you were 
 hardly weaned." This smart reproof had the desired 
 effect, and Du Vail, in a courteous manner, took his 
 leave of the ladies. 
 
 One day Du Vail met Roper, master of the hounds 
 to Charles II., who was hunting in Windsor Forest ; 
 and, taking the advantage of a thicket, demanded 
 his money, or he would instantly take his life. Roper, 
 without hesitation, gave him his purse, containing at 
 least fifty guineas : in return for which, Du Vail bound 
 
CLAUDE Dl >iLL. 11 
 
 him u±ck and heel, tied his horse to a tree beside 
 him, and rode across the country. 
 
 It was a considerable time before the huntsmen 
 discovered their master. The squire, being at length 
 released, made all possible haste to Windsor, unwilling 
 to venture himself into any more thickets for that 
 day, whatever might be the fortune of the hunt. 
 Entering the town, he was accosted by Sir Stephen 
 Fox, who inquired if he had had any sport. " Sport I" 
 replied Roper, in a great passion, "yes, sir, I have 
 had sport enough from a villain who made me pay 
 full dear for it; he bound me neck and heels, con- 
 trary to my desire, and then took fifty guineas from 
 me to pay him for his labor, which I had much rather 
 he had omitted." 
 
 England now became too contracted a sphere for 
 the talents of our adventurer ; and, in consequence of a 
 proclamation issued for his detection, and his notoriety 
 in the kingdom, Du Vail retired to his native country. 
 At Paris he lived in a very extravagant style, and 
 carried on war with rich travellers and fair ladies, 
 and proudly boasted that he was equally successful 
 with both : but his warfare with the latter was infi- 
 nitely more agreeable, though much less profitable, 
 than with the former. 
 
 There is one adventure of Du Vail at Paris, which 
 we shall lay before our readers. There was in that 
 city a learned Jesuit, confessor to the French king, 
 who had rendered himself eminent, both by his politics 
 and his avarice. His thirst for money was insatiable, 
 and increased with his riches. Du Vail devised the 
 following plan to obtain a share of the immense wealth 
 of this pious father. 
 
 To facilitate his admittance into the Jesuit's com- 
 pany, he dressed himself as a scholar, and, waiting a 
 favorable opportunity, went up to him very confidently, 
 and addressed him as follows: " May it please your 
 reverence, I am a poor scholar, who have been several 
 years travelling over strange countries, to learn expe- 
 rience in the sciences, principally to serve mine own 
 
12 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 country, for whose advantage I am determined to apply 
 my knowledge, if I may be favored with the patronage 
 of a man so eminent as yourself." " And what may 
 this knowledge of yours be?" replied the father, very 
 much pleased. " If you will communicate any thing 
 to me that may be beneficial to France, I assure you, 
 no proper encouragement shall be wanting on my side." 
 Du Vail, upon this, growing bolder, proceeded : " Sir, 
 I have spent most of my time in the study of alchymy, 
 or the transmutation of metals, and have profited so 
 much at Rome and Venice, from great men learned 
 in that science, that I can change several metals into 
 gold, by the help of a philosophical powder which T 
 can prepare very speedily." 
 
 The father confessor was more elated with this 
 communication than all the discoveries he had obtained 
 in the way of his profession, and his knowledge even 
 of his royal penitent's most private secrets gave him 
 less delight than the prospect of immense riches which 
 now burst upon his avaricious mind. " Friend," said 
 he, " such a thing as this will be serviceable to the 
 whole state, and particularly grateful to the king, who, 
 as his affairs go at present, stands in great need of 
 such a curious invention. But you must let me see 
 some proof of your skill, before I credit, what you 
 say, so far as to communicate it to his majesty, who 
 will sufficiently reward you, if what you promise be 
 demonstrated." Upon this, the confessor conducted 
 Du Vail to his house, and furnished him with money 
 to erect a laboratory, and to purchase such other 
 materials as were requisite, in order to proceed in this 
 invaluable operation, charging him to keep the secret 
 from every living soul. Utensils being fixed, and 
 every thing in readiness, the Jesuit came to witness 
 the wonderful operation. Du Vail took several metals 
 and minerals of the basest sort, and put them in a 
 crucible, his reverence viewing every one as he put 
 them in. Our alchymist had prepared a hollow tube, 
 into which he conveyed several sprigs of real gold; 
 with this seeming stick he stirred the operation, 
 
 \ 
 
CLAUDE DU VALL.. 13 
 
 which, with its heat, melted the gold, and- the tube 
 at the same time, so that it sank imperceptibly • into 
 the vessel. When the excessive fire had cons^piQcLall 
 the different materials which he had put in, the golid 
 remained pure, to the quantity of an ounce and a half. 
 This the Jesuit ordered to be examined, and, ascer- 
 taining that it was actually pure gold, he became de-" 
 voted to Du Yail, and, blinded with the prospect of' 
 future advantage, credited every thing our impostor 
 said, furnishing him with whatever he demanded, in 
 hopes of being made master of this extraordinary 
 secret. Thus were our alchymist and Jesuit, according 
 to the old saying, as " great as two pick-pockets." 
 Du Vail was a professed robber ; and what is a court 
 favorite but a picker of the people's pockets ? So 
 that it was two sharpers endeavoring to outsharp one 
 another. The confessor was as candid as Du Vail 
 could wish ; he showed him all his treasures, and 
 several rich jewels which he had received from the 
 king; hoping, by these obligations, to incline him to 
 discover his wonderful secrets with more alacrity. In 
 short, he became so importunate, that Du Vail was 
 apprehensive of too minute an inquiry, if he denied 
 the request any longer : he therefore appointed a day 
 when the whole was to be disclosed. In the mean 
 time, he took an opportunity of stealing into the 
 chamber where the riches were deposited, and where 
 his reverence generally slept after dinner ; finding 
 him in deep repose, he gently bound him, then took 
 his keys, and unhoarded as much of his wealth as 
 he could carry off unsuspected; after which, he quickly 
 took leave of him and France. 
 
 It is uncertain how long Du Vail continued his depre- 
 dations after his return to England ; but we are informed, 
 that in a fit of intoxication he was detected at the 
 Hole-in-the-Wall, in Chandos street, committed to 
 Newgate, convicted, condemned, and executed at Ty- 
 burn, in the twenty-seventh year of his age, on the 1st 
 of January 1669 : and so much had his gallantries 
 and handsome figure rendered him the favorite of the 
 B 
 
14 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 fair sex, that many a bright eye was dimmed at his 
 funeral; his corpse was bedewed with the tears of 
 beauty, and his actions and death were celebrated by 
 the immortal author of the inimitable Hudibras. He 
 was buried with many flambeaux, amidst a numerous 
 train of mourners, (most of them ladies,) in the middle 
 aisle of the church in Covent Garden. 
 
 SAWNEY BEANE. 
 
 The following narrative presents such a picture of 
 human barbarity, that, were it not attested by the 
 most unquestionable historical evidence, it would be 
 rejected as altogether fabulous and incredible. 
 
 Sawney Beane was born in the county of East Lo- 
 thian, about eight miles east of Edinburgh, in the reign 
 of James I. of Scotland. His father was a hedger and 
 ditcher, and brought up his son to the same laborious 
 employment. Naturally idle and vicious, he aban- 
 doned that place in company with a young woman 
 equally idle and profligate, and retired to the deserts 
 of Galloway, where they took up their habitation by 
 the sea-side. The place which Sawney and his wife 
 selected for their dwelling was a cave of about a mile 
 in length, and of considerable breadth, so near the sea, 
 that the tide often penetrated into the cave above two 
 hundred yards. The entry had many intricate wind- 
 ings and turnings, leading to the extremity of the 
 subterraneous dwelling, which was literally " the habi- 
 tation of horrid cruelty." 
 
 Sawney and his wife took shelter in this cave, and 
 commenced their depredations. To prevent the possi- 
 bility of detection, they murdered every person they 
 robbed. Destitute also of the means of obtaining any 
 other food, they resolved to live upon human flesh. 
 Accordingly, when they had murdered any man, wo- 
 
SAWNEY BEANE. 15 
 
 man, or child, they carried them to their den, quartered 
 them, salted the limbs, and dried them for food. In 
 this manner they lived, carrying on their depredations 
 and murder, until they had eight sons and six daugh- 
 ters, eighteen grandsons and fourteen granddaughters, 
 all the offspring of incest. 
 
 But though they soon became numerous, yet such 
 was the multitude which fell into their hands, that 
 they had often superabundance of provisions, and 
 would, at a distance from their own habitation, throw 
 legs and arms of dried human bodies into the sea by 
 night. These were often cast out by the tide, and 
 taken up by the country people, to the great consterna- 
 tion and dismay of all the surrounding inhabitants. 
 Nor could any one discover what had befallen the 
 many friends, relations, and neighbors who had unfor- 
 tunately fallen into the hands of these merciless can- 
 nibals. 
 
 In proportion as Sawney's family increased, every 
 one that was able acted his part in these horrid assas- 
 sinations. They would sometimes attack four or six 
 men on foot, but never more than two upon horseback. 
 To prevent the possibility of escape, they would lie in 
 ambush in every direction, that if they escaped those 
 who first attacked, they might be assailed with re- 
 newed fury by another party, and inevitably murdered. 
 By this means they always secured their prey, and 
 prevented detection. 
 
 At last, however, the vast number who were slain 
 roused the inhabitants of the country, and all the 
 woods and lurking-places were carefully searched ; 
 yet, though they often passed by the mouth of the 
 horrible den, it was never once suspected that any 
 human being resided there. In this state of uncertainty 
 and suspense concerning the authors of such frequent 
 massacres, several innocent travellers and innkeepers 
 were taken up on suspicion, because the persons who 
 were missing had been seen last in their company, or 
 had last resided at their houses. The effect of this 
 well-meant and severe justice constrained the greater 
 
16 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 part of the innkeepers in those parts to abandon such 
 employments, to the great inconvenience of those who 
 travelled through that district. 
 
 Meanwhile, the country became depopulated, and 
 the whole nation was at a loss to account for the nu- 
 merous and unheard-of villanies and cruelties that were 
 perpetrated, without the slightest clue to the discovery 
 of the abominable actors. At length Providence inter- 
 posed in the following manner to terminate the horrible 
 scene. One evening, a man and his wife were riding 
 home upon the same horse from a fair which had been 
 held in the neighborhood, and, being attacked, the 
 husband made a most vigorous resistance : his wife, 
 however, was dragged from behind him, carried to a 
 little distance, and her entrails instantly taken out. 
 Struck with grief and horror, the husband continued 
 to redouble his efforts to escape, and even trod some 
 of the assassins down under his horse's feet. Fortu- 
 nately for him, and for the inhabitants of that part of 
 the country, in the mean time, twenty or thirty in a 
 company came riding home from the fair. Upon their 
 approach, Sawney and his bloody crew fled into a 
 thick wood, and hastened to their infernal den. 
 
 This man, who was the first that had ever escaped 
 out of their hands, related to his neighbors what had 
 happened, and showed them the mangled body of his 
 wife lying at a distance, the bloodthirsty wretches not 
 having time to carry it along with them. They were all 
 struck with astonishment and horror, took him with 
 them to Glasgow, and reported the whole adventure to 
 the chief magistrate of the city, who, upon this infor- 
 mation, instantly wrote to the king, informing him of 
 the matter. 
 
 In a few days, his majesty in person, accompanied 
 by four hundred men, went in quest of the perpetra- 
 tors of these horrible cruelties. The man, whose wife 
 had been murdered before his eyes, went as their 
 guide, with a great number of bloodhounds, that no 
 possible means might be left unattempted to discover 
 the haunt of such execrable villains. 
 
SAWNEY /5EANE. ' 1.7 
 
 They searched the woods, and traversed and exa- 
 mined the sea-shore ; but, though they passed by the 
 entrance into their cave, they had no suspicion that 
 any creature resided in that dark and dismal abode. 
 Fortunately, however, some of the bloodhounds en- 
 tered the cave, raising an uncommon barking and 
 noise, an indication that they were about to seize their 
 prey. The king and his men returned, but could 
 scarcely conceive how any human being could reside 
 in a place of utter darkness, and where the entrance 
 was difficult and narrow ; but, as the bloodhounds in- 
 creased in their vociferation, and refused to return, it 
 occurred to all that the cave ought to be explored to 
 the extremity. Accordingly, a sufficient number of 
 torches was provided ; the hounds were permitted to 
 pursue their course; a great number of men penetrated 
 through all the intricacies of the path, and at length 
 arrived at the private residence of the horrible can- 
 nibals. 
 
 They were followed by all the band, who were 
 shocked to behold a sight unequalled in Scotland, if not 
 in any part of the universe. Legs, arms, thighs, hands, 
 and feet, of men, women, and children, were suspended 
 in rows like dried beef. Some limbs and other mem- 
 bers were soaked in pickle; while a great mass of 
 money, both of gold and silver, watches, rings, pistols, 
 clothes, both linen and woollen, with an immense 
 quantity of other articles, were either thrown together 
 in heaps, or suspended upon the sides of the cave. 
 
 The whole cruel, brutal family, to the number for- 
 merly mentioned, were seized; the human flesh buried 
 in the sand of the sea-shore ; the immense booty car- 
 ried away, and the king marched to Edinburgh with 
 the prisoners. This new and wretched spectacle at- 
 tracted the attention of the inhabitants, who flocked 
 from all quarters to see, as they passed along, so bloody 
 and unnatural a family, which had increased, in the 
 space of twenty-five years, to the number of twenty- 
 seven men and twenty-one women. Arrived in the 
 capital, they were all confined in the Tclbooth under 
 
18 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 a strong guard, and were next day conducted to the 
 common place of execution in Leith Walk, and exe- 
 cuted without any formal trial, it being deemed unne- 
 cessary to try those who were avowed enemies of all 
 mankind, and of all social order. 
 
 The enormity of their crimes dictated the severity 
 of their death. The men had their entrails thrown 
 into the fire, their hands and legs were severed from 
 their bodies, and they were permitted to bleed to death. 
 The wretched mother of the whole crew, the daugh- 
 ters, and grandchildren, after being spectators of the 
 death of the men, were cast into three separate fires, 
 and consumed to ashes. Nor did they, in general, 
 display any signs of repentance or regret, but continued, 
 with their last breath, to pour forth the most dreadful 
 curses and imprecations upon all around, and upon 
 those who were instrumental in consigning them to the 
 hands of a tardy but a certain and inevitable justice. 
 
 THOMAS WYNNE. 
 
 This notorious criminal was born at Ipswich, where 
 he continued till he was between fifteen and sixteen, 
 and then went to sea. Nine years after, coming to 
 London, and associating with loose company, especially 
 with women of the most infamous character, he left no 
 villainy undone for the support of himself and them in 
 their extravagances, till at last he became so expert in 
 house-breaking and all sorts of theft, that he was 
 esteemed the most remarkable villain of his time. 
 
 It was in the reign of queen Elizabeth that our artist 
 flourished : accordingly, we find that he had the bold- 
 ness to rob the royal lodgings at Whitehall palace of 
 plate to the amount of 400/. for which he was taken 
 and committed to Newgate. But fortunately for him, 
 her majesty's act of grace coming out, granting a free 
 
THOMAS WYNNE. 19 
 
 pardon for all offences except murder, treason, and 
 other notorious crimes, he was allowed the benefit of 
 that act, and thus obtained his liberty. But neither the 
 royal clemency, nor the imminent danger to which he 
 had been exposed, had any effect upon the obdurate 
 heart of Wynne ; for, pursuing his villanies, he was 
 soon constrained to hire himself as under servant in 
 the kitchen, to the earl of Salisbury, to avoid detection. 
 While he was in this post, he had the audacity to make 
 love to the countess's woman, who, astonished at such 
 insolence in a fellow of his rank, returned his addresses 
 with the greatest contempt. This exasperated Wynne 
 so much, that his pretended love turned to hatred, and 
 he vowed revenge. He embraced an opportunity, and 
 used her in a very brutal manner, until she was under 
 the necessity of calling to the other servants for assist- 
 ance. The poor woman took to her bed, and remained 
 very unwell for some time. The master, informed of 
 this shocking piece of cruelty, ordered Wynne to be 
 whipped by the coachman, and the same to be repeated 
 once a week during a month. Though Wynne was 
 happy in having satiated his vengeance upon the woman 
 who had contemptuously spurned his addresses, yet he 
 was not very much in love with the reward assigned 
 him by his master; therefore, robbing the coachman of 
 nine pounds, borrowing fifteen pounds of the master- 
 cook, carrying off a silver cup of the master's, and all 
 the best clothes of the woman whom he had so greatly 
 injured, he went in quest of new adventures. 
 
 At that time innkeepers were not so active as now ; 
 Wynne therefore often dressed himself in the garb of a 
 porter, and carried off parcels consigned to carriers, and 
 continued undetected in this practice, until he had 
 acquired about two hundred pounds, for which the 
 different carriers had to pay through their neglect. 
 Taught by experience, however, they began to look 
 better after the goods entrusted to their care, so that 
 Wynne had to turn to a new employment. 
 
 One day, hearing a man inform his wife, as he was 
 going out, that it would be five or six hours before 
 
20 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 he would return, he followed him until he saw him go 
 into a tavern ; and, after getting acquainted with the 
 name of the landlord, he went back to the man's neigh- 
 borhood, and discovered his name also. Having ob- 
 tained this intelligence, he goes to the man's wife, and 
 informs her that her husband is taken suddenly ill, and 
 wishes to see her before his death. Upon this the poor 
 woman cried bitterly, and, after giving the maid orders 
 to take care of the house, she ran off with this pre- 
 tended messenger to the place where her husband was 
 supposed to be in the jaws of death. 
 
 They had not proceeded far, when Wynne, upon pre- 
 tence of business in a different part of the town, left 
 her to prosecute her journey, — returned back to the 
 house, and told the maid, that " her mistress had sent 
 him to acquaint her, that if she did not come home by 
 such an hour, she might go to bed, for she should not 
 come home all night." Wynne in the mean time 
 seeming out of breath with haste, the maid civilly re- 
 quested him to come in and rest himself. This ac- 
 cording with his wishes, he immediately complied, and, 
 when the maid was going to fetch him some meat, he 
 suddenly knocked her down, bound her hand and foot, 
 and robbed the house of every thing he could carry 
 off, to the amount of 200/. 
 
 Wynne, having reigned eight years in his villanies, 
 formed a strong desire to rob a linen-draper who had 
 retired from business, and with his wife was living 
 upon the fruits of his industry. He accordingly one 
 evening broke into their house, and, to prevent disco- 
 very, cut both their throats while they were asleep, 
 and rifled the house to the amount of 2500/. ; and, to 
 prevent detection, sailed to Virginia, with his wife and 
 four children. 
 
 The two old people not appearing in the neighbor- 
 hood next day as usual, and the doors remaining 
 locked, the neighbors were alarmed, sent for a consta- 
 ble and burst open the doors, when they found them 
 weltering in their blood, and their house pillaged. Dili- 
 gent search was made, and a poor man, who begged 
 
THOMAS WYNNE. 2* 
 
 his bread, was taken up on suspicion, because he had 
 been seen about the doors, and sitting upon a bench 
 belonging to the house the day before : and although 
 nothing but circumstantial evidence appeared against 
 him, he was tried, condemned, and executed before the 
 door of the house, and his body hung in chains at 
 Holloway. 
 
 Meanwhile Wynne, the murderer, was in safety in 
 a foreign land. It also happened, that by the price of 
 innocent blood he prospered, and his riches greatly 
 increased. After he had resided twenty years in Vir- 
 ginia, where his family became numerous, and his 
 riches great, he resolved to visit England before his 
 death, and then to return to deposit his bones in a fo- 
 reign grave. During his stay in London, he one day 
 went into a goldsmith's shop in Cheapside, to purchase 
 some plate that he intended to take home with him. 
 It happened, while the goldsmith was weighing the 
 plate which Wynne had purchased, that an uproar took 
 place in the street, occasioned by the circumstance of a 
 gentleman running off from certain bailiffs who were 
 conducting him to prison. Upon this Wynne ran also 
 out into the street, and hearing somebody behind him 
 crying out, "Stop him! stop him!" his conscience in- 
 stantly awoke, so that he stopped, and exclaimed, " I 
 am the man!" "You the man!" cried the people; 
 "what man?" "The man," replied Wynne, "that 
 committed such a murder in Honey lane twenty 
 years ago, for which a poor man was hanged wrong- 
 fully !" 
 
 Upon this confession he was carried before a magis- 
 trate, to whom he repeated the same acknowledgment, 
 and was committed to Newgate, tried, condemned, and 
 executed before the house where he perpetrated the 
 horrid deed. In this manner the justice of Heaven 
 pursued this guilty wretch long after he thought him- 
 self beyond the reach of punishment. Justice also 
 overtook his family, who were privy to his guilt. 
 Upon the intelligence of his shameful end, his wife 
 immediately became deranged, and continued so to her 
 
22 " 
 
 I 
 
 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 death. Two of his sons were hanged in Virginia foi 
 robbery, and the whole family were soon reduced to 
 beggary. 
 
 THOMAS WITHERINGTON. 
 
 This person was the son of a worthy gentleman of 
 Carlisle, in the county of Cumberland, who possessed 
 a considerable estate, and brought up his children suit- 
 ably to his condition. Thomas, the subject of this me- 
 moir, received a liberal education, as his father intend- 
 ed that he should live free from the toil and hazard of 
 business. The father dying, Thomas came into posses- 
 sion of the estate, which soon procured him a rich wife, 
 who afterwards proved the chief cause of his ruin. 
 She was loose in her conduct, and violated her matri- 
 monial obligations, which drove him from his house 
 to seek happiness in the tavern, or in the company of 
 abandoned women. These by degrees perverted all 
 the good qualities he possessed ; nor was his estate less 
 subject to ruin and decay ; for the mortgages he made 
 on it, in order to support his luxury and profusion, soon 
 reduced his circumstances to the lowest ebb. Undisci- 
 plined in poverty, how could a man of his late affluent 
 fortune, and unacquainted with business, procure a main- 
 tenance ? He was possessed of too independent a spi- 
 rit to stoop either to relations or friends for a precarious 
 subsistence, and to solicit the benevolence of his fellow- 
 men was what his soul abhorred. Starve he could 
 not, and only one way of living presented itself to his 
 choice — levying contributions on the road. This he 
 followed for six or seven years with tolerable success ; 
 and we shall now relate a few of his most remarkable 
 adventures. 
 
 Upon his first outset he repaired to a friend, and with 
 a grave face lamented his late irregularities, and de- 
 
THOMAS WITHEKINGTON. 23 
 
 clared his determination to live by some honest means ; 
 but for this purpose he required a little money to assist 
 him in establishing himself, and hoped his friend 
 would find it convenient to accommodate him. His 
 friend was overjoyed at the prospect of his amend- 
 ment and willingly lent him fifty pounds, with as 
 many blessings and exhortations. But Witherington 
 frustrated the expectations of his friend, and with the 
 money bought himself a horse and other necessaries fit 
 for his future enterprises. 
 
 One night he stopped at Keswick in Cumberland, 
 where he met with the dean of Carlisle. Being equally 
 learned, they found each other's company very agreea- 
 ble, and Witherington passed himself off for a gentle- 
 man who had just returned from the East Indies with 
 a handsome competency, and was returning to his 
 friends at Carlisle, among whom he had a rich uncle, 
 who had lately died and left him sole heir to his estate. 
 11 True," said the dean, "I have often heard of a rela- 
 tion of Mr. Witherington' s being in the East Indies; 
 but his family, 1 can assure you, have received repeated 
 information of his death, and what prejudice this may 
 have done to your affairs at Carlisle, to-morrow will be 
 the best witness." The dean then told him his own his- 
 tory, and concluded in these words : — " And I am now 
 informed that, to* support his extravagance, Mr. Wi- 
 therington frequents the road, and takes a purse 
 wherever he can extort it." Our adventurer seemed 
 greatly hurt at this account of his cousin's conduct, 
 and thanked the doctor for his information. Being 
 both fond of their bottle, they spent the evening very 
 agreeably, promising to travel together on the following 
 day to Carlisle. 
 
 Having arrived at a wood on the road, Witherington 
 rode close up to the dean, and whispered into his ear, 
 " Sir, though the place at which we now are is private 
 enough, yet willing that what I do should be still more 
 private, I take the liberty to acquaint you, that you 
 have something about you that Avill do me an infinite 
 piece of service." — u What 's that?" answered the doc- 
 
24 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 tor; " you shall have it with all my heart." — " I thank 
 you for your civility," said Witherington. "Well 
 then, to be plain, the money in your breeches-pocket 
 will be very serviceable to me at the present moment." 
 • — "Money!" rejoined the doctor; "sir, you cannot 
 want money; your garb and person both tell me you 
 are in no want." — "Ay, but I am; for the ship in 
 which I came over happened to be wrecked, so that I 
 have lost all I brought from India ; and I would not 
 enter Carlisle for the whole world without money in 
 my pocket." — " Friend, I may urge the same plea, and 
 say I would not go into that city without money for 
 the world ; but what then ? If you are Mr. Wither- 
 ington's nephew, as you pretend to be, you would not 
 thus peremptorily demand money of me, for at Carlisle 
 your friends will supply you; and if you have none 
 now, I will bear your expenses to that place." — "Sir," 
 said Witherington, " the question is not whether I have 
 money or not, but concerning that which is in your 
 pocket ; for, as you say, my cousin is obliged to take 
 purses on the road, and so am I ; so that if I take 
 yours, you may ride to Carlisle, and say that Mr. Wi- 
 therington met you and demanded your charity." Af- 
 ter a good deal of expostulation, the dean, terrified at 
 the sight of a pistol, delivered to Witherington a purse 
 containing fifty guineas, before he pursued his journey 
 to Carlisle, and our adventurer set off in search of more 
 prey. 
 
 Witherington being at Newcastle, put up at an inn 
 where some commissioners were to meet that day, to 
 make choice of a schoolmaster for a neighboring pa- 
 rish. The salary being very handsome, many spruce 
 young clergymen and students appeared as competi- 
 tors : and, being possessed of sufficient qualifications, 
 Witherington bethought him of standing a candidate, 
 for which purpose he borrowed coarse, plain clothes 
 from the landlord, to make his appearance correspond 
 with the conduct he meant to pursue. Repairing to 
 the kitchen, and sitting down by the fire, he called for 
 a mug of ale, putting on a very dejected countenance. 
 
. THOMAS WITJ3ERINGTON. 25 
 
 One of the freeholders who came to vote, observing him 
 as he stood warming himself by the fire, was taken 
 with his countenance, and entered into conversation 
 with him. He very modestly let the freeholder know 
 that he had come with the intention of standing a can- 
 didate, but when he saw so many gay young men as 
 competitors, and fearing that every thing would be 
 carried by interest, he resolved to return home. " Nay," 
 replied the honest freeholder, " as long as I have a vote, 
 justice shall be done ; and never fear, for egad, I say, 
 merit shall have the place, and if thou be found the 
 best scholar, thou shalt certainly have it; and to show 
 you I am sincere, I now, though you are a stranger to 
 me, promise you my vote, and my interest likewise.' ' 
 Witherington thanked him for his civility, and con- 
 sented to wait for the trial. A keen contest took place 
 between two of the most successful candidates, when 
 our adventurer was introduced as a man who had so 
 much modesty as to make him fearful of appearing 
 before so great an assembly, but who nevertheless 
 wished to be examined. He confronted the two oppo- 
 nents, and exposed their ignorance to the trustees, who 
 were all astonished at the stranger. He showed it 
 was not a number of Greek and Latin sentences that 
 constituted a good scholar, but a thorough knowledge 
 of the nature of the book which he read, and the abi- 
 lity to discover the design of the author. Suffice it to 
 say, that Witherington was installed into the office 
 with all the usual formalities. 
 
 Conducting himself with much moderation and hu- 
 mility, the churchwardens of the parish took a great 
 fancy to him, and made him overseer and tax-gatherer 
 to the parish; and the rector likewise committed to 
 his care the collection of his rents and tithes. This 
 friendly disposition towards Witherington extended 
 itself over the parish, and never was a man believed to 
 be more honest or industrious. Of the latter qualifi- 
 cation, we must say, in this instance, he showed himself 
 possessed ; but of the former he had never any notion. 
 His opinion had great weight with the heads of the 
 C 
 
26 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 parish, and he proposed the erection of a new school- 
 house, and for this purpose offered, himself, to sink a 
 year's salcry towards a subscription. It was willingly 
 agreed to, and contributions came in from all quarters, 
 and a sum exceeding 700/. was speedily raised. The 
 mind of Witherington was now big with hope, but, 
 being discovered by two gentlemen who had come from 
 Carlisle, he made off with all the subscriptions and funds 
 in his possession, leaving the parish to reflect upon the 
 honesty of their schoolmaster and their own credulity. 
 
 He went to Buckinghamshire, and, being at ai inn 
 in the county town, fell into the company of some far- 
 mers, who, he discovered, had come to meet their land- 
 lord with their rents. They were all tenants of the 
 same proprietor, and poured out many complaints 
 against him for his harshness and injustice, in not al- 
 lowing some deduction from their rents, or time after 
 quarter-day, when they met with severe losses from 
 bad weather or other causes. He learned that this 
 landlord was very rich, and so miserly that he denied 
 himself even the necessaries of life; our adventurer, 
 therefore, determined, if possible, to rifle him before he 
 parted. 
 
 The landlord soon arrived, and the company were 
 shown into a private room; Witherington, upon pre- 
 tence of being a friend of one of the farmers, and a 
 lawyer, accompanied them. He requested a sight of 
 the last receipts, and examined them with great care, 
 and then addressing the landlord, "Sir," said he, " these 
 honest men, my friends, have been your tenants for a 
 long time, and have paid their rents very regularly ; 
 but why they should be so fond of your farms at so 
 high a rent I am unable to comprehend, when they 
 may* get other lands much cheaper; and that you 
 should be so unreasonable as not to allow a reduction 
 in their rents in a season like this, when they must 
 lose instead of gaining by their farms. It is /oui 
 duty, sir, to encourage them, and not to grind them so 
 unmercifully, else they will soon be obliged to leave 
 your farms altogether." The landlord endeavored to 
 
THOMAS WITHERINGTON. 27 
 
 argue the point ; and the farmers seeing the drift of 
 Witherington, refrained from interfering. l< It is unne- 
 cessary," resumed Witherington, " to have more parley- 
 about it; I insist, on behalf of my friends here, that 
 you remit them a hundred and fifty pounds of the 
 three hundred you expect them to pay you, for I am 
 told you have more than enough to support yourself and 
 family." " Not a sous," replied the landlord. " We'll 
 try that presently. But pray, sir, take your pen, ink, 
 and paper, in the mean time, and write out their re- 
 ceipts, and the money shall be forthcoming immediate- 
 ly." " Not a letter, till the money is in my hands." 
 "It must be so, then," answered Witherington; "you 
 will force a good-natured man to use extremities with 
 you ;" and so saying, he laid a brace of loaded pistols 
 on the table. In a moment the landlord was on his 
 knees, crying, "Oh ! dear sir, sweet sir, kind sir, mer- 
 ciful sir, for God of Heaven's sake, sir, don't take away 
 the life of an innocent man, sir, who never intended 
 harm to any one, sir." " Why, what harm do I intend 
 you, friend ? Cannot I lay the pistols I travel with on 
 the table, but you must throw yourself into this unne- 
 cessary fear? Pray, proceed with the receipts, and 
 write them in full of all demands to this time, or else — " 
 — "Oh, God, sir ! Oh, dear sir! you have an intention 
 — pray, dear sir, have no intention against my life." 
 " To the receipts then, or by Jupiter Ammon ! I '11 — " 
 — "O yes, I will, sir." With this the old landlord 
 wrote full receipts, and delivered them to the respective 
 farmers. 
 
 " Come," said Witherington, " this is honest, and to 
 show you that you have to deal with honest people, 
 here is the hundred and fifty pounds ; and I promise 
 you, in the name of these honest men, that if things 
 succeed well, you shall have the other half next quar- 
 ter-day." The farmers paid the money, and departed 
 astonished, and not a little afraid, at the consequences 
 of this proceeding. Witherington ordered his horse, 
 and inquired of the ostler the road the old gentle nan 
 had to travel, and presently took his departure. 
 
28 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBEKo. 
 
 He chose the road which the old gentleman had to 
 travel, and soon observed him jogging away in sullen 
 silence, with a servant behind him. When he observed 
 our hero, he would have fled, but Witherington seized 
 the bridle of his horse, and forced him to proceed, ban- 
 tering him upon the folly of hoarding up wealth, with- 
 out enjoying it himself, merely for some spendthrift son 
 to squander after his death. " For," he continued, 
 " money is a blessing sent us from Heaven, in order 
 that, by its circulation, it may afford nourishment to 
 the body politic ; and if such wretches as you, by lay- 
 ing up thousands in your coffers to no advantage, cause 
 a stagnation, there are thousands in the world that 
 must feel the consequences, and I am to acquaint you 
 of them ; so that a better deed cannot be done, than to 
 bestow what you have about you upon me ; for, to be 
 plain with you, I am not to be refused ;" and hereupon 
 he presented his pistol. The old gentleman, in trepi- 
 dation for his life, resigned his purse, containing more 
 than three hundred and fifty guineas; and Withering- 
 ton, unbuckling the portmanteau from behind the ser- 
 vant, placed it on his own horse, and left the old land- 
 lord with an admonition, to be in future affable and 
 generous to his tenants, for they were the persons who 
 supported him, adding, that if he ever again heard 
 complaints from them, he would visit his house, and 
 partake liberally of what he most coveted. 
 
 The county, after this adventure, was up in pursuit 
 of Witherington, and he retired to Cheshire with great 
 expedition. The first house he put up at was an inn 
 kept by a young widow, noted as well for her kindness 
 to travellers, as her wealth and beauty. She paid our 
 adventurer great attention, and invited him to be of a 
 party, consisting of some friends, which she was to 
 have that evening. He was not blind to the charms 
 of the widow, and gladly accepted the invitation. The 
 company he found to consist chiefly of gentlemen, who, 
 he could discover, were angling for the widow's riches. 
 Witherington gained great favor in the eyes of the lady, 
 and she asked him to favor the company with a song, 
 
THOMAS WITHERINGTON. 29 
 
 as she was sure, from his sweet clear voice, he could 
 perform well. Witherington wanting no farther impor- 
 tunity from a person he had fixed his affections upon, 
 complied with the request, and sang an amorous ditty, 
 very applicable to his present situation, and, with the 
 assistance of a side glance and a sigh, enabled the 
 widow to draw the most favorable inferences. He was 
 completely successful, and the widow evidently van- 
 quished. Witherington was now requested by the wi- 
 dow to relate some story concerning himself, "as cer- 
 tainly a person who could make himself so agreeable, 
 and make others take such an interest in his welfare, 
 could not fail to have met with something remarkable 
 in his lifetime." Witherington was all compliance, 
 and begged leave to give a short recital of his life ; 
 and the company were anxious that he should proceed, 
 expecting to be informed of something marvellous and 
 mysterious. 
 
 He invented an artful story, the drift of which was 
 to give the widow a high idea of himself, of the power 
 that love had over him, and of the generosity of his 
 own mind. His greatest misfortune, he said, was dis- 
 appointment in love, the object of his choice having 
 been stolen from him by an old rich uncle, against her 
 inclination, and he stated that he had just left home, in 
 order to divert his mind from the melancholy with 
 which this had overcast him; "chance," said he, in 
 conclusion, " has thrown me into this hospitable house, 
 where I cannot but own I have found as much beauty 
 as I have been unfortunately deprived of." 
 
 This story excited considerable interest throughout 
 the company, more particularly in the breast of the 
 widow, towards whom Witherington now evinced une- 
 quivocal marks of attention, which seemed to excite 
 considerable jealousy in some of the gentlemen present. 
 They all parted, however, on the most friendly terms, 
 and our adventurer resolved to stay some time at, 
 Nantwich, in order to follow out this adventure. Next 
 morning, Witherington renewed his assiduities, and 
 both he and the amorous widow were equally gratified 
 
 2 
 
30 LIVES OF HIGH f AYMEN AND ROBBERS 
 
 with each other's company; at length, determined to 
 carry his point by a cow de grace, he declared a most 
 ardent passion for her, which, after much prefacing and 
 many assurances, was returned tenfold. She assured 
 him, at the same time, that he had many rivals, but 
 over these he had gained the pre-eminence, in her esti- 
 mation. 
 
 A few days after the first interview with the other 
 suitors at the inn, Witherington' s ascendancy was so 
 evident, that a rival, who imagined he had the game 
 within reach, was seriously alarmed, and had recourse 
 to stratagem to free Himself from such an opponent. 
 For this purpose he sent for Witherington, and, with 
 every appearance of disinterested friendship, informed 
 him, that he had sent for him to caution him against 
 further intimacy with the widow, to whom he con- 
 fessed he once paid matrimonial court, but that he had 
 thrown her completely off since he had dwovered the 
 measure of her guilt, and congratulated himself upon 
 his escape. Expressing his detestation of the character 
 of a defamer, and solemnly avowing the purity of his 
 motives, he informed Witherington, that the widow 
 was most fickle and insincere in her attachment, as 
 any one might have discovered at the supper party ; 
 and, in order to gratify this w-ivering inclination, she 
 had poisoned her last husband. He entreated him 
 then, as he valued his own happiness and security, to 
 desist from prosecuting his indentions farther, ana 
 hoped Witherington would pardon the liberty he had 
 taken ; for, hearing his acquaintance was to end in 
 marriage, and considering the fortunate escape he had 
 himself made, he was bound to prevent a stranger from 
 being imposed upon. 
 
 Witherington at once saw the drift of his rival, ana 
 humored him accordingly. He seemed shocked at the 
 baseness of the widow, and joined the other in self- 
 congratulation. He thanked the gentleman for his 
 kindly warning, and told him to leave the affair to his 
 management, and he would soon discover the depth of 
 her guilt; and that as they both seemed to have one 
 
THOMAS WITHERINGTON. 
 
 31 
 
 object in view, namely, the possession of her money, 
 the} might then be able to make what use of the cir- 
 cumstances they found convenient and proper. The 
 gentleman seemed satisfied, and they parted for the 
 present. 
 
 Our adventurer returning to the inn, acquainted the 
 widow with the whole conversation between him and 
 the gentleman. She was greatly incensed, declared 
 the world was very censorious, and vowed revenge at 
 whatever price. Witherington judging that a rupture 
 was about to take place, thought it high time to take 
 advantage of the credulous w%man; so, that evening, 
 taking her aside, he observed to her that the best way 
 of revenging herself upon his rival would be, if she 
 had any serious intention of marrying him, to show her 
 inclination by some mark of her favor that might dis- 
 tinguish him above his rival. Glad of this opportunity, 
 she conveyed him into a closet, where, showing him ail 
 her money and plate, she told him that all these were 
 at his service, provided he could deliver her from the 
 importunities of the gentleman. Witherington assured 
 her that she might depend upon him, and, taking his 
 leave for the night, retired to his chamber. Here he 
 wrote the following letter to the widow : 
 
 " My Dear, 
 " Ever mindful of what a woman says, especially 
 one who has been pleased to set her affections on me, 
 I have written this letter purely to acquaint you that, 
 being obliged to go to London, and the journey being 
 pretty long, I could not do better than make use of the 
 money in the closet which you were so good as to say 
 was at my service. I was in exceeding haste when I 
 began to write this', so that I can spare no more time 
 than to request you to be sure of thinking of me till my 
 return. T. Witherington." 
 
 After writing this he went privately into the widow's 
 closet and secured all her ready money, which amount- 
 ed to above three hundred pounds; then, going into 
 
32 LIVE& OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBB-EKS. 
 
 the stable, saddled his horse, mounted, and rode out at 
 the back door, leaving the family fast asleep, and tht; 
 widow and the gentleman lover to prosecute theii 
 amours as they thought fit. 
 
 Witherington, not yet content with the spoil obtained 
 from the parish and from the widow, repaired to the 
 London road, where he perpetrated a robbery between 
 Acton and Uxbridge ; after which he was detected and 
 committed to Newgate, where he led a most profligate 
 life till the day of his execution. 
 
 He was executed with Jonathan Woodward and 
 James Phiipot, two most notorious housebreakers, who 
 had once before received mercy from king James I. 
 upon his accession to the throne. One of the name of 
 Elliot, the son of a respectable lady then living, was 
 condemned at the same time, but afterwards pardoned. 
 This individual, thus restored to society by the royal 
 clemency, afterwards became a worthy citizen and a 
 good Christian. Out of compassion for other criminals, 
 and in acknowledgment of the king's favor, his mother, 
 upon her death-bed, bequeathed a handsome sum to 
 the parish of St. Sepulchre's in London, upon the con- 
 dition of finding a man who should always, between 
 the hours of eleven and twelve o'clock of the night pre- 
 vious to the execution of any unhappy criminal, go 
 under Newgate, and, giving notice of his approach by 
 the ringing of a bell, remind the prisoners of their ap- 
 proaching end, by repeating religious exhortations, 
 tending to prepare them for death. Witherington and 
 his companions in death were the first to whom these 
 exhortations were given ; and as the design is truly be 
 nevolent, and as they are often fraught with incalculable 
 blessings to the guilty, we will gratify our readers by 
 the insertion of them, and with this close the life of 
 Witherington. 
 
 The person appointed, after inquiring of the crimi- 
 nals if they are awake, and being answered in thft 
 affirmative, proceeds thus : 
 
 "Gentlemen, I am the unwelcome messenger who 
 conies to inform you that to-morrow you must die. 
 
THOMAS WTTHER1NGTON. 33 
 
 Your time is but short, the time slides away apace, the 
 glass runs fast, and the last sand being now about to 
 drop, when you must launch out into boundless eterni- 
 ty, give not yourselves to sleep, but watch and pray to 
 gain eternal life. Repent sooner than St. Peter, and 
 repent before the cock crows, for now repentance is the 
 only road to salvation; be fervent in this great duty, 
 and without doubt you may to-morrow be with the 
 penitent thief in paradise. Pray without ceasing ; 
 quench not the spirit ; abstain from all appearance of 
 evil ; as your own wickedness hath caused all this to 
 fall upon you, and brought the day of tribulation near 
 at hand, so let goodness be your sole comfort, that your 
 souls may find perpetual rest with your blessed Savior 
 who died for the sins of the world ; he will wipe all 
 tears from your eyes, remove your sorrows, and assuage 
 your grief, so that your sin-sick souls shall be healed 
 for evermore. I exhort you earnestly not to be negli- 
 gent of the work of your salvation, which depends 
 upon your sincere devotion betwixt this and to-mor- 
 row, when the sword of justice shall send you out of 
 the land of the living. Fight the good fight of faith, 
 and lay hold of eternal life whilst you may, for there is 
 no repentance in the grave. Ye have pierced your- 
 selves with many sorrows, but a {ew hours will bring 
 you to a place where you will know nothing but joy 
 and gladness. Love righteousness and hate iniquity, 
 then God, even your God, will anoint you with the oil 
 of gladness above your fellows. Go now boldly to the 
 throne of grace, that ye may obtain mercy and find 
 grace to help in time of need. The God of peace sanc- 
 tify you wholly ! and I pray God, your whole spirits, 
 and souls, and bodies, may be preserved blameless, 
 until the meeting of your blessed Redeemer ! The 
 Lord have mercy upon you ! Christ have mercy upon 
 you ! Sweet Jesus receive your souls ! and to-morrow 
 may you sup with him in paradise ! Amen ! Amen !" 
 Next day, when they were to die, the bell on the 
 steeple was tolled, and the cart stopped under the 
 churchyard wall at St. Sepulchre's, where, the same 
 
34 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 person repeated from the wall the following additional 
 exhortation : 
 
 " Gentlemen, consider, now you are going out of this 
 world into another, where you will live in happiness 
 or woe for evermore. Make your peace with God Al- 
 mighty, and let your whole thoughts be entirely bent 
 upon your latter end. Cursed is he that hangeih on a 
 tree; but it is hoped the fatal knot will bring your pre- 
 cious souls to a union with the great Creator of hea- 
 ven and earth, to whom I recommend your souls, in 
 this your final hour of distress. Lord have mercy 
 upon you! Christ look down upon you and comfort 
 you ! Sweet Jesus receive your souls this day into 
 eternal life ! Amen !" 
 
 JAMES BATSON. 
 
 This famous robber was born in the first year of 
 James the First. It so happens (although perhaps the 
 circumstance is no very satisfacto*y evidence of the au- 
 thenticity of his adventures) that he is his own historian; 
 we are accordingly compelled, in default of other parti- 
 culars, to lay his auto-biography before our readers. 
 
 " 1 suppose," says he, " that, according to custom, 
 the reader will expect some relation of my genealogy, 
 and as I am a great admirer of fashion, I shall gratify 
 his curiosity. My grandfather had the good fortune to 
 marry a woman well skilled in vaulting and rope-danc- 
 ing, and who could act her part uncommonly well. 
 Though above fifty years of age, and affected with the 
 phthisic, she died in the air. To avoid seeing other 
 women fly as she had done, her husband would not 
 marry again ; but diverted himself with keeping a pup- 
 pet-show in Moorfields, deemed the most remarkable 
 that ever had been seen in that place. My grandfather 
 was also so little, that the only difference between him 
 
JAMES BATSON. £5 
 
 and his puppets was, that they spoke through a trunk, 
 and he without one. He was, however, so eloquent, 
 and made such lively speeches, that his audience were 
 never rendered drowsy. Ail the apple-women, hawk- 
 ers, and fish-women, were so charmed by his wit, that 
 they would run to hear him, and leave their goods 
 without any guard but their own straw hats. 
 
 " My father had two trades, or two strings to his 
 bow ; he was a painter and a gamester, and master 
 much alike at both ; for his painting could scarcely 
 rise so high as a sign-post, and his hand at play was 
 of such an ancient date, that it could scarcely pass. 
 He had one misfortune, which, like original sin, he en- 
 tailed upon all his children; and that was, his being 
 born a gentleman, which is as bad as being a poet, few 
 of whom escape eternal poverty. 
 
 " My mother had the misfortune to die longing for 
 mushrooms. Besides myself she left two daughters, 
 both very handsome and very young; and though I 
 was then young myself, yet I was much better skilled 
 in sharping than my age seemed to promise. When 
 the funeral sermon was preached, the funeral rites per- 
 formed, and our tears dried up, my father returned to 
 his daubing, my sisters to their stitching, and I was 
 despatched to school. I had such an excellent memory, 
 that though my dispositions were then what they have 
 continued to be, yet I soon learned as much as might 
 have been applied to better purposes than I have done. 
 My tricks upon my master and my companions were 
 so numerous, that I obtained the honorable appellation 
 of the Little Judas. My avaricious disposition soon 
 appeared, and if my covetous eyes once beheld any 
 thing, my invention soon put it into my possession. 
 These, however, 1 could not obtain gratis, for they 
 cost me many a boxing bout every day. The reports 
 of my conduct were conveyed home, and my eldest 
 sister would frequently spend her white hands upon 
 the side of my pate ; and sometimes even carried her 
 admonitions so far, as politely to inform me, that i 
 would prove a disgrace to the family. 
 
36 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 "It was my good fortune, however, not to be greatly 
 agitated by her remonstrances, which went in at the one 
 ear and out at the other. It happened, however, that 
 my adventures were so numerous, and daily increasing 
 in their magnitude, that 1 was dismissed the school 
 with as much solemnity as if it had been by beat of 
 drum. After giving me a complete drubbing, my fa- 
 ther carried me to a barber, in order to be bound as his 
 apprentice. I was first sent to the kitchen, where my 
 mistress soon provided me with employment, by show- 
 ing me a parcel of dirty clothes, informing me, that it 
 made part of the apprentice's work to clean them : 
 1 Jemmy,' said she, ' mind your heels, there 's a good 
 boy V I hung down my head, tumbled all the clouts 
 into a trough, and washed them as well as I could. I 
 so managed the matter, that I was soon discarded 
 from my office, which was very fortunate for me, for it 
 would have put an end to Jemmy in less than a fort- 
 night. 
 
 " The third day of my apprenticeship, my master 
 having just given me a note to receive money, there 
 came into the shop a ruffian with a pair of whiskers, 
 and told my master he would have them turned up. 
 The journeyman not being at hand, my master began 
 to turn them up himself^ and desired me to heat the 
 irons. I complied, and just as he had turned up one 
 whisker, there happened a quarrel in the street, and 
 my master ran out to learn the cause. The scuffle 
 lasting long, and my master desirous to see the end as 
 well as the beginning of the bustle, the spark was all 
 the time detained in the shop, with the one whisker 
 ornamented, and the other hanging down like an aspen 
 leaf. In a harsh tone he asked me, if I understood my 
 trade; and I, thinking it derogatory to my understand- 
 ing to be ignorant, boldly replied that I did; 'Why, 
 then,' said he, ' turn up this whisker for me, or I shall 
 go into the street as I am, and kick your master.' I 
 was unwilling to be detected in a lie, and deeming it 
 no difficult matter to turn up a whisker, never showed 
 the least concern, but took up one of the irons, that had 
 
JAMES BATSON. 37 
 
 been in the fire ever since the commencement of the 
 street bustle, and having nothing to try it on, and will- 
 ing to appear expeditious, I took a comb, stuck it into 
 his bristly bush, and clapped the iron to it: no sooner 
 did they meet, than there arose a smoke, as if it had 
 been out of a chimney, with a whizzing noise, and in a 
 moment all the hair vanished. He exclaimed furious- 
 ly, ' Thou son of a thousand dogs ! dost thou take me 
 for St. Lawrence, that thou burnest me alive!' With 
 that he let fly such a bang at me, that the comb drop- 
 ped out of my hand, and I could not avoid, in the 
 fright, laying the hot iron close along his cheek : this 
 made him give such a shriek as shook the whole house, 
 and he, at the same time, drew his sword to send me 
 to the other world. I, however, recollecting the pro- 
 verb, that ' One pair of heels is worth two pair of 
 hands,' ran so nimbly into the street, and fled so 
 quickly from that part of the town, that though I was 
 a good runner, I was amazed when I found myself 
 about a mile from home, with the iron in my hand, 
 and the remainder of the whisker sticking to it. As 
 fortune would have it, I was near the dwelling of the 
 person who was to pay the note my master gave me : 
 I went and received the money, but deemed it proper 
 to detain it in lieu of my three days' wages. 
 
 " This money was all exhausted in one month, when 
 I was under the necessity of returning to my father's 
 house. Before arriving there, I was informed, that he 
 was gone to the country to receive a large sum of money 
 which was due him, and therefore went boldly in, as 
 if the house had been my own. My grave eisters re- 
 ceived me very coldly, and severely blamed me for the 
 money which my father paid for my pranks. Main- 
 taining, however, the honor of my birthright, 1 kept 
 them at considerable distance. The domestic war be- 
 ing thus prolonged, I one day lost temper, and was 
 resolved to make them feel the consequences of giving 
 me sour beer ; and, though the dinner was upon the 
 table, I threw the dish at my eldest sister, and the beer 
 at the younger, overthrew the table, and marched out 
 D 
 
38 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBER8. 
 
 of doors on a ramble. Fortunately, however, I was 
 interrupted in my flight by one who informed me, that 
 my father was dead, and in his testament had very 
 wisely left me sole heir and executor. Upon this I re- 
 turned, and soon found the tones and tempers of my 
 sisters changed, in consequence of the recent news. I 
 sold the goods, collected the debts, and feasted all the 
 rakes in town, until not one farthing remained. 
 
 " One evening, a party of my companions carried me 
 along with them, and, opening the door of a certain 
 house, conveyed from thence some trunks, which a 
 faithful dog perceiving, he gave the alarm. The peo- 
 ple of the house attacked the robbers, who threw down 
 their burdens to defend themselves : meanwhile, I 
 skulked into a corner all trembling. The watch made 
 their appearance, and seeing three trunks in the street, 
 two men dangerously wounded, and myself standing 
 at a small distance, they seized me as one concerned in 
 the robbery. Next day I was ordered to a place ol 
 confinement, and could find no friend to bail me from 
 thence. In ten days I was tried, and my defences 
 being frivolous and unsatisfactory, I was about to be 
 hoisted up by the neck, and sent out of the world in a 
 swinging manner, when a reprieve came, and in two 
 months a full pardon. 
 
 " After this horrible fright, (for I was not much dis- 
 disposed to visit the dwelling of my .grandfather,) I 
 commenced travelling merchant, and, according to my 
 finances, purchased a quantity of wash-balls, tooth- 
 picks, and tooth-powders. Pretending that they came 
 from Japan, Peru, or Tartary, and extolling them to 
 the skies, I had a good sale, particularly among the 
 gentry of the playhouse. Upon a certain day, one 
 of the actresses, a beautiful woman of eighteen, and 
 married to one of the actors, addressed me, saying, 
 ' she had taken a liking to me, because I was a confi- 
 dent, sharp, forward youth; and therefore, if I would 
 serve her, she would entertain me with all her heart; 
 and that, when the company were strolling, I might 
 beat the drum and stick up the bills.' Deeming it an 
 
JAMES BATSON. 39 
 
 easier mode of moving through the world, I readily 
 consented, only requesting two days to dispose of my 
 stock, and to settle all my accounts. 
 
 " In my new profession my employments were vari- 
 ous, some of which, though not very pleasant, I endea- 
 vored to reconcile myself to, inasmuch as they were 
 comparatively better than my former. In a little time, 
 I became more acquainted with the tempers of my mas- 
 ter and mistress, and became so great a favorite, that fees 
 and bribes replenished my coffers from all expectants 
 and authors who courted their favor. Unfortunately, 
 however, one day, in their absence, I was invited by 
 some of the party to take a walk, and, going into a 
 tavern, commenced playing at cards, till my last far- 
 thing was lost. Determined, if possible, to be revenged 
 of my antagonist, I requested time to run home for 
 more money : it was readily granted. I ran and seized 
 an article belonging to my mistress, pawned it for a 
 small sum, which soon followed my other stores. But 
 evils seldom come alone : I was in this situation not 
 only deprived of my money, but also obliged to de- 
 camp." 
 
 The next adventure of Batson was to enlist as a sol- 
 dier. It happened, however, that his captain cheating 
 him out of his pay, caused a grievous quarrel. Batson 
 soon found that it was dangerous to reside in Rome 
 and strive with the pope. His captain, upon some pre- 
 tence of improper conduct, had him apprehended, tried, 
 and condemned to be hanged. The cause of this harsh 
 treatment was a very simple one : " For," says Batson, 
 " I was one day drinking with a soldier, and happened 
 to fall out about a lie given. My sword unluckily run- 
 ning into his throat, he kicked up his heels, through 
 his own fault, for he ran upon my point, so that he 
 may thank his own hastiness." Upon this our hero 
 says, "As if it had been a thing of nothing, or as 
 a matter of pastime, they gave sentence that I should 
 be led in state along the streets, then mounted upon a 
 ladder, kick up my heels before all the people, and take 
 a swing in the open air, as if I had another life in my 
 
40 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 knapsack. A notary informed me of this sentence, 
 who was so generous that he requested no fee, nor any 
 expenses for his trouble during the trial. The unfeel- 
 ing gaoler desired me to make my peace with my 
 Maker, without giving me one drop to cheer my de- 
 sponding heart. Informed of my melancholy condition, 
 a compassionate friar came to prepare me for another 
 world, since the inhabitants of this were so ready to bid 
 me farewell. When he arrived, he inquired for the 
 condemned person. I answered, ' Father, I am the 
 man, though you do not know me.' He said, 'Deal 
 child, it is now time for you to think of another worlds 
 since sentence is passed, and, therefore, you must 
 employ the short time allowed you in confessing your 
 sins, and asking forgiveness of your offences. ' I an- 
 swered, ' Reverend father, in obedience to the com- 
 mands of the church, I confess but once in the year, 
 and that is in Lent; but if, according to the human 
 laws, I must atone with my life for the crime I have 
 committed, your reverence, being so learned, must be 
 truly sensible that there is no divine precept which 
 says, "Thoushalt not eat or drink;" and therefore, since 
 it is not contrary to the law of God, I desire that I may 
 have meat and drink, and then we will discourse of 
 what is best for us both ; for I am in a Christian coun- 
 try, and plead the privilege of sanctuary.' 
 
 " The good friar was much moved at finding me so 
 jocular when I ought to be so serious, and began to 
 preach to me a loud and a long sermon upon the parable 
 of the lost sheep, and the repentance of the good thief. 
 But the charity bells that ring when criminals are exe- 
 cuted knolling in mine ears, made a deeper impression 
 than the loud and impressive voice of the friar. I 
 therefore kneeled down before my ghostly father, and 
 cleared the store-house of my sins, and poured forth a 
 dreadful budget of iniquity. He then gave me his 
 blessing, and poor Batson seemed prepared to take his 
 flight from a world of misfortunes and insults. 
 
 " But, having previously presented a petition to the 
 marquis D'Estc, then commanding officer, he at that 
 
JAMES BATSON. ' 4t 
 
 critical moment called me before him. He, being a 
 merciful man, respited my sentence, and sent me to the 
 galleys for ten years. Some friends farther interfered, 
 and informed the marquis, that the accusation and sen- 
 tence against me were effected by the malice of the 
 captain, who was offended because I had insisted for 
 the whole of my listing money. The result was, that 
 he ordered me to be set at liberty, to the disappointment 
 of my captain, together with that of the multitude and 
 the executioner. 
 
 " The deadly fright being over, and my mind re- 
 stored to tranquillity, I went forth to walk, and to me- 
 ditate upon what method I was now to pursue in the 
 rugged journey of life. Every man has his own for- 
 tune, and, as good luck would have it, I again met 
 with a recruiting officer, who enlisted me, and, from 
 partiality, took me home to his own quarters. The 
 cook taking leave of the family, I was interrogated if I 
 understood any thing in that line. To this I replied, 
 as usual, in the affirmative, and was accordingly in- 
 stalled into the important office of a cook. 
 
 "In the course of a military life, my master took up 
 his winter residence at Bavaria, in the house of one of 
 the richest men in those parts. To save his property, 
 however, the Bavarian pretended to be very poor, drove 
 away all his cattle, and removed all his stores to another 
 quarter. Informed of this, I waited upon him, and ac- 
 quainted him that, as he had a person of quality in his 
 house, it would be necessary to provide liberally for 
 him and his servants. He replied, that I had only to 
 inform him what provisions I wanted, and he would 
 order them immediately. I then informed him, that 
 my master always kept three tables, one for the gentle- 
 men and pages, a second for the butler and under offi- 
 cers, a third for the footmen, grooms, and other liveries ; 
 that for these tables be must supply one ox, two calves, 
 four sheep, twelve pullets, six capons, two dozen of pi 
 geons, six pounds of bacon, four pounds of sugar, two 
 of all sorts of spice ; a hundred eggs, half a dozen disiies 
 of fish, a pot of wine to every plate, and six hogsheads 
 
42 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 to stand by. He blessed himself, and exclaimed, ' If 
 all you speak of be only for the servants' tables, the 
 village will not be able to furnish the master's.' To 
 this 1 rep-lied, that my master was such a good-natured 
 man, that, if he saw his servants and attendants well 
 provided, he was indifferent to his own table; a dish 
 of imperial stuffed meat, with an egg in it, would be 
 sufficient for him. He asked me of what that same 
 imperial stuffed meat was composed? I desired him 
 to send for a grave-digger and a cobbler, and while they 
 were at work, I would inform him what there was want- 
 ing. They were instantly called. I then took an egg, 
 and putting it into the body of a pigeon, which I had 
 already gutted with my knife, said to him, ' Now, sir, 
 take notice ; this egg is in the pigeon, the pigeon is to 
 be put into a partridge, the partridge into a pheasant, 
 the pheasant into a pullet, the pullet into a turkey, the 
 turkey into a kid, the kid into a sheep, the sheep into a 
 calf, the calf into a cow ; all these creatures are to be 
 pulled, flead, and larded, except the cow, which is to 
 have her hide on ; and as they are through one into 
 another, like a nest of boxes, the cobbler is to sew every 
 one of them with an end, that they may not slip 
 out; and the grave-digger is to throw up a deep trench, 
 into which one load of coals is to be cast, and the cow 
 laid on the top of it, and another load above her ; the 
 fuel set on fire, to burn about four hours, more or less, 
 when the meat being taken out, is incorporated, and 
 becomes such a delicious dish, that formerly the em- 
 perors used to dine upon it on their coronation-day ; 
 for which reason, and because an egg is the foundation 
 of all that, curious mass, it is named the " imperial egg- 
 stuffed meat." ' The landlord was not a little asto- 
 nished, but after some conversation we understood 
 each other, and my master left the matter to my 
 care. 
 
 " In the course of my negotiations with the landlord, 
 I incurred the displeasure of my master, who, discover- 
 ing my policy, came into the kitchen, seized the first 
 convenient instrument, and belabored me most unmer- 
 
JAMES BATSON. 43 
 
 sifully. He was, however, punished for his rashness, 
 by the want of a cook for two weeks. 
 
 " The scoundrels of the French were audacious 
 enough to pay us a visit while we remained here. I 
 was ordered out with the rest, but I kept at the greatest 
 distance, lest any bullet should have mistaken me for 
 some other person. No sooner did I receive the intelli- 
 gence that the French were conquered, than I ran to 
 the field of battle, brandishing my sword, and cutting 
 and slashing among the dead men. It unfortunately 
 happened, however, that, as I struck one of them with 
 my sword, he uttered a mournful groan, and, appre- 
 hensive that he was about to revenge the injury done 
 to him, I ran off with full speed, leaving my sword in 
 his body. In passing along, I met with another sword, 
 which saved my honor, as I vaunted that I had seized 
 it from one in the field of battle. 
 
 " While thus rambling through the field of blood and 
 danger, my master was carried home mortally wound- 
 ed, who called me a scoundrel, and cried, ' Why did 
 not you obey me?' 'Lest, sir,' replied I, 'I should 
 have been as you now are.' The good man soon 
 breathed his last, leaving me a horse and fifty ducats. 
 
 " Being again emancipated from the bonds of servi- 
 tude, I began to enjoy life, and continued to treat all 
 my acquaintance so long as my money would permit. 
 The return of poverty, however, made me again enlist 
 under the banners of servitude. 
 
 " About this time a singular occurrence happened 
 to me. I chanced to go out into the street, when my 
 eyesight was so affected, that I could not discern black 
 from green, nor white from gray. Observing the can- 
 dles suspended in a candle-maker's shop, and taking 
 them for radishes, I thought there was no great harm 
 though I should taste one of them. Accordingly, lay- 
 ing hold of one, down fell the whole row, and being 
 dashed to pieces upon the floor, a scuffle ensued ; I was 
 taken into custody, and made to pay the damage, 
 which operated to restore my sight to its natural state. 
 
 " Not long after this adventure, I was assailed with 
 
44 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 love for the fair sex, and, after some sighs and presents, 
 I was bound to a woman for better or for worse, and 
 continued with her until the charms of the marriage 
 state and the pleasures of domestic life began to pall 
 upon me, and an ardent desire to return to my old 
 course of adventure took possession of my mind. To- 
 wards the attainment of this desirable end, I one day 
 kicked my wife out of doors, dressed myself, and pre- 
 pared to sally forth. I had no sooner effected this 
 liberation, than a tavern was my first resting-place to 
 recruit my spirits and to redeem lost time. 
 
 " I at last formed the resolution of returning to my 
 native home, and there spending the evening of my 
 bustling life in calm repose. After travelling many a 
 tedious mile, I got to London. Arrived in the capital, 
 I went directly to my father's house, but found it in 
 the possession of another, and my sisters departed this 
 life. As both of them had been married, and had left 
 children, there was no hope of any legacy by their 
 death : I was therefore under the necessity, of doing 
 something for a living. Finding the gout increasing 
 upon me, I, by the advice of an acquaintance, took a 
 public house; and, as I understood several languages, 
 I thought I might have many customers from among 
 foreigners." 
 
 Batson then gravely concludes his own narrative in 
 these words : — 
 
 11 1 intend to leave off my foolish pranks, and as I 
 have spent my juvenile years and money in keeping 
 company, hope to find some fools as bad as myself, 
 who delight in throwing away their estates and impair- 
 ing their health." 
 
 He accordingly took a house in Smithfield, and ac- 
 quired a considerable sum. But, being desirous to 
 make a fortune with one dash, he hastened his end. 
 Among others who put up at his house was a gentle- 
 man who had purchased a large estate in the country, 
 and was going to deliver the cash. The ostler observed 
 to his master, that the bags belonging to the gentleman 
 were uncommonly heavy when he carried them into 
 
John Cottington. P. 47. 
 
MULLED SACK. 47 
 
 the house. They mutually agreed to rob, and after- 
 wards to murder him ; and the ostler accomplished the 
 horrid deed. But, differing about the division of the 
 spoil, the ostler got drunk, and disclosed the whole 
 matter. The house was searched, the body of the 
 gentleman found, and both the murderers were seized, 
 tried, and condemned. The ostler died before the fatal 
 day, but Batson was executed, and, according to the 
 Catholic faith, died a penitent, a year before the resto- 
 ration of king Charles the Second. 
 
 MULLED SACK, alias JOHN COTTINGTON. 
 
 This man's father was a petty haberdasher in Cheap- 
 side, but living above his income, he died so poor that 
 he was interred by the parish. He had eighteen chil- 
 dren, fifteen daughters and three sons. Our hero was 
 the youngest of the family, and at the age of eight was 
 bound apprentice to a chimney-sweeper. In his first 
 year, deeming himself as expert at his profession as 
 his master, he left him, and, acting for himself, soon 
 acquired a great run of business. 
 
 Money now coming in upon him, he frequented the 
 tavern, and, disdaining to taste of any thing but mulled 
 sack, he acquired that appellation. One evening he 
 there met with a young woman, with whom he was so 
 enamored, that " he took her for better for worse." 
 But, not enjoying that degree of comfort in this union 
 which his imagination had painted to him, he fre- 
 quented the company of other women, until it became 
 necessary to make public contributions to supply their 
 pressing necessities. His first trials were in picking 
 pockets of watches, and any small sum he could find. 
 Among others, he robbed a lady famous among the 
 usurers, of a gold watch set with diamonds, and ano- 
 
48 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 ther lady of a similar piece of luxury, as she was 
 going into church to hear a celebrated preacher. By 
 the aid of his accomplices, the pin was taken out of the 
 axle of her coach, which fell down at the church door, 
 and in the crowd, Mulled Sack, being dressed as a 
 gentleman, gave her his hand, while he seized her 
 watch. The pious lady did not discover her loss, 
 until she wished to know the length of the sermon, 
 when her devout meditations, excited by the consoling 
 exhortation of the pious preacher, were sadly inter- 
 rupted by the loss of her time-piece. It is related, that 
 upon a certain occasion, he had the boldness to attempt 
 the pocket of Oliver Cromwell, and that the danger to 
 which he was then exposed determined him to leave 
 that sneaking trade, and in a genteel manner to enter 
 upon the honorable profession of public collector on 
 the highway. 
 
 He entered into partnership with Tom Cheney. 
 Their first adventure was attacking colonel Hewson, 
 who had raised himself by his merit from a cobbler to 
 a colonel. He was riding at some distance from his 
 regiment upon Hounslow-heath, and, even in the sight 
 of some of his men, these two rogues robbed him. 
 The pursuit was keen : Tom's horse failing, he was 
 apprehended, but Mulled Sack escaped. The prisoner, 
 being severely wounded, entreated that his trial might 
 be postponed on that account. But, on the contrary, 
 lest he should die of his wounds, he was condemned 
 at two o'clock, and executed that evening. 
 
 One Home was the next accomplice of Mulled Sack. 
 His companions were, however, generally unfortunate. 
 Upon their first attempt, Home was pursued, taken, 
 and executed. 
 
 Thus twice bereft of his associates, he acted alone, 
 but generally committed his depredations upon the 
 republican party, who then had the wealth of the na- 
 tion in their possession. Informed that the sum of 
 four thousand pounds was on its way from London, to 
 pay the regiments of Oxford and Gloucester, he con- 
 cealed himself behind a hedge where the wagon was 
 
MULLED SACK- 49 
 
 to pass, presented his pistols, and the guard supposing 
 that many more must have been concealed, fled, and 
 left him the immense prize. 
 
 There were a few passengers in the wagon, who 
 were greatly affrighted. He, however, consoled them, 
 assuring them that he would not injure them, saying, 
 ; This which I have taken is as much mine as theirs 
 who own it, being all extorted from the public by the 
 rapacious members of our commonwealth, to enrich 
 themselves, maintain their janizaries, and keep honest 
 peopb in subjection, the mosj; effectual way to do 
 which is to keep them very poor." 
 
 When not employed as a chimney-sweep, which 
 profession he still occasionally pursued, he dressed in 
 high style, and is said to have received more money 
 by robbery than any man in that age. One day, 
 being informed that the receiver-general was to send 
 up to London six thousand pounds, he entered his house 
 the night before, and rendered that trouble unneces- 
 sary. Upon the noise which this notorious robbery 
 occasioned, Mulled Sack was apprehended ; but through 
 cunning, baffling the evidence, or corrupting the jury, 
 he was acquitted. 
 
 In a little time after, he robbed and murdered a 
 gentleman, and, for fear of detection, went to the con- 
 tinent, and was introduced into the court of Charles 
 the Second. Upon pretence of giving information, he 
 came home, and applied to Cromwell, confessed his 
 crime, but proposed to purchase his life by important 
 information. But whether he failed in his promise, or 
 whether Cromwell thought that such a notorious 
 offender was unworthy to live, cannot be ascertained ; 
 one thing is certain, that he was tried and executed in 
 tho forty-fifth year of his age, in the month of April 
 1659. 
 
 E 
 
50 
 
 CAPTAIN JAMES HIND. 
 
 The father of Hind was an industrious saddler, a 
 cheerful companion, and a good Christian. He was a 
 native of Chipping Norton, Oxfordshire, Where James 
 was born. As our hero was his only son, he received 
 a good education, and remained at school until he was 
 fifteen years of age. 
 
 He was then sent as an apprentice to a butcher in that 
 place, and continued in that employment during two 
 years. Upon leaving his master's service, he applied 
 to his mother for money to bear his expenses to London, 
 complaining bitterly of the rough and quarrelsome 
 temper of his master. The complying mother yielded, 
 and, giving him three pounds, she, with a sorrowful 
 heart, took farewell of her beloved son. 
 , Arrived in the capital, he soon contracted a relish 
 for the pleasures of the town. His bottle and a female 
 companion became his principal delight, and occupied 
 the greater part of his time. He was unfortunately 
 detected one evening with a woman of the town who 
 had just robbed a gentleman, and along with her con- 
 fined until the morning. He was acquitted because no 
 evidence appeared against him, but his fair companion 
 was committed to Newgate. 
 
 Captain Hind, soon after this accident, became ac- 
 quainted with one Allan, a famous highwayman. 
 While partaking of a bottle, their conversation became 
 mutually so agreeable that they consented to unite 
 their fortunes. ^ 
 
 Their measures being concerted, they set out in 
 quest of plunder. They fortunately met a gentleman 
 and his servant travelling along the road. Hind being 
 raw and inexperienced, Allan was desirous to have a 
 
 
CAPTAIN JAMES HIND. 51 
 
 proof of his courage and address ; he, therefore, re- 
 mained at a distance, while Hind boldly rode up to 
 them and took from them fifteen pounds, at the samp 
 time returning one to bear their expenses home. This 
 he did with so much grace and pleasantry, that the 
 gentleman vowed that he would not injure a hair oi his 
 head though it were in his power. 
 
 About this period, the unfortunate Charles I. suffered 
 death for his political principles. Captain Hind con- 
 ceived an inveterate enmity to all those who had 
 stained their hands with their sovereign's blood, and 
 gladly embraced every opportunity to wreak his ven- 
 geance upon them. In a short time, Allan and Hind 
 met with the usurper, Oliver Cromwell, riding from 
 Huntingdon to London. They attacked the coach, but 
 Oliver being attended by seven servants. Allan was 
 apprehended, and it was with no small difficulty that 
 Hind made his escape. The unfortunate Allan was 
 soon after tried, and suffered death for his audacity. 
 The only effect which this produced upon Hind was 
 to render him more cautious in his future depredations. 
 He could not. however, think of abandoning a course, 
 on which he had just entered, and which promised so 
 many advantages. 
 
 The captain had ridden so hard to escape from 
 Cromwell and his train that he killed his horse, and 
 having no money to purchase a substitute, he was 
 under the necessity of trying his fortune upon foot, 
 until he should find means to procure another. It was 
 not long before he espied a horse tied to a hedge with 
 a saddle on and a brace of pistols attached to it. He 
 looked round and observed a gentleman, on the other 
 side of the hedge. " This is my horse," exclaimed the 
 captain, and immediately vaulted into the saddle. 
 The gentleman called out to him that the horse was 
 his. "Sir," said Hind, "you may think yourself 
 well off that I have left you all the money in your 
 pocket to buy another, which you had best lay out 
 before I meet you again, lest you should be worse 
 used." So saying, he rode off in search of new booty 
 
52 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 There is another story of Hind's ingenious metnod 
 of supplying himself with a horse upon occasion. It 
 appears that, being upon a second extremity reduced 
 to the humble station of a footpad, he hired a sorry 
 nag. and proceeded on his journey. He was overtaken 
 by a gentleman mounted on a fine hunter, with a port- 
 manteau behind him. They entered into conversation 
 upon such topics as are common to travellers, and 
 Hind was very eloquent in the praise of the gentle- 
 man's horse, which inclined the other to descant upon 
 the qualifications of the animal. There was upon one 
 side of the road a wall, which the gentleman said his 
 horse would leap over. Hind offered to risk a bottle 
 on it, to which the gentleman agreed, and quickly 
 made his horse leap over. The captain acknowledged 
 that he had lost his wager, but requested the gentleman 
 to let him try if he could do the same; to which he 
 consented, and the captain, being seated in the saddle 
 of his companion, rode off at full speed and left him to 
 return the other miserable animal to its owner. 
 
 At another time the captain met the regicide Hugh 
 Peters in Enfield chace, and commanded him to deliver 
 his money. Hugh, who was not deficient in confidence, 
 Degan to combat Hind with texts of scripture, and to 
 cudgel our bold robber with the eighth commandment: 
 " It is written in the law," said he, " that ' Thou shalt 
 not steal :' and furthermore, Solomon, who was surely 
 a very wise man, spoke in this manner, ' Rob not the 
 poor, because he is poor.' " Hind was desirous to an- 
 swer him in his own strain, and for that purpose began 
 to rub up his memory for some of the texts he had 
 learned when at school. " Verily," said Hind, " if thou 
 hadst regarded the divine precepts as thou oughtest to 
 have done, thou wouldst not have wrested them to 
 such an abominable and wicked sense as thou didst 
 the words of the prophet, when he said, ' Bind their 
 kings with chains, and their nobles with fetters of iron.' 
 Didst thou not then, detestable hypocrite, endeavor, 
 from these words, to aggravate the misfortunes of thy 
 royal master, whom thy cursed republican party un- 
 
CAPTAIN JAMES HIND. 63 
 
 »ustly murdered .before the gate of his own palace?" 
 Here Hugh Peters began to extenuate that proceeding, 
 and to allege other parts of scripture in his own de- 
 fence. " Pray, sir," replied Hind, "make no reflections 
 against men of my profession, for Solomon plainly 
 said, ' do not despise a thief.' But it is to little pur- 
 pose for us to dispute ; the substance of what I have to 
 say is this, deliver thy money presently, or else I shall 
 send thee out of the world to thy master, the devil, ill 
 an instant." These terrible words of the captain's so 
 terrified the old Presbyterian, that he forthwith gave 
 him thirty broad pieces of gold and then departed. 
 
 But Hind was not satisfied with allowing so bitter 
 an enemy to the royal cause to depart in such a man- 
 ner. He accordingly rode after him at full speed, and, 
 overtaking him, addressed him in the following lan- 
 guage : — "Sir, now I think of it, I am convinced this 
 misfortune has happened to you because you did not 
 obey the words of the scripture, which expressly says, 
 ' provide neither gold, nor silver, nor brass, in your 
 purses, for your journey,' whereas it is evident that 
 you had provided a pretty decent quantity of gold. 
 However, as it is now in my power to make you fulfil 
 another commandment, I would by no means slip the 
 opportunity ; therefore, pray give me your cloak." 
 Peters was so surprised that he neither stood still to 
 dispute nor to examine what was the drift of Hind's 
 demand. But he soon made him understand his 
 meaning, when he added, "You know, sir, our Sa- 
 vior has commanded, that if any man take away thy 
 cloak, thou must not refuse thy coat also ; therefore, 1 
 cannot suppose that you will act in direct contradiction 
 to such an express command, especially as you cannot 
 pretend you have forgot it, seeing that I now remind 
 you of that duty." The old Puritan shrugged his 
 shoulders some time before he proceeded to uncase 
 them; but Hind told him that his delay would be of 
 no service to him, for he would be implicitly obeyed, 
 because he was sure that what he requested was en- 
 
54 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 tircly consonant with the scripture. , He accordingly 
 surrendered, and Hind carried off the cloak. 
 
 The following sabbath, when Hugh ascended the 
 pulpit, he was inclined to pour forth an invective 
 against stealing, and selected for his subject these 
 words: "I have put off my coat, hew shall I put it 
 on?" An honest plain man, who was present, and 
 knew how he had been treated by the robber, promptly 
 cried out, " Upon my word, sir, I believe there is no- 
 body here can tell you, unless captain Hind were here." 
 Which ready answer to Hugh's scriptural question 
 put the congregation into such an outrageous fit of 
 laughter, that the parson was made to blush, and de- 
 scended from his pulpit, without prosecuting the sub- 
 ject farther. 
 
 The captain, as before mentioned, indulged a rooted 
 hatred against all those who were concerned in the 
 murder of the late king; and frequently these men fell 
 in his way. He was one day riding on the road, when 
 president Bradshaw, who had sat as judge upon the 
 king, and passed the sentence of death upon him, met 
 with the captain. The place where they came into 
 collision was on the road between Sherbourne and 
 Shaftesbury. Hind rode up to the coach, and de- 
 manded Bradshaw's money, who, supposing that his 
 very name would convey terror along with it, informed 
 him who he was. "Marry," cried Hind, "1 neither 
 fear you nor any king-killing villain alive. 1 have 
 now as much power over you, as you lately had over 
 the king, and I should do God and my country good 
 service, if I made the same use of it; but live, villain, 
 to suffer the pangs of thine own conscience, till justice 
 shall lay her iron hand upon thee, and require an an- 
 swer for thy crimes, in a way more proper for such a 
 monster, who art unworthy to die by any hands but 
 those of the common hangman, or at any other place 
 than Tyburn. Nevertheless, though I spare thy life as 
 a regicide, be assured, that unless thou deliver up thy 
 money immediately, thou shalt die for thy obstinacy." 
 
 Bradshaw began to perceive that the case was not 
 
CAPTAIN JAMES HIND. 55 
 
 h**w with him as it was when he sat at VVestminster 
 Hall, supported by all the strength of the rebellion. 
 A horror took possession of his soul, and discovered 
 itself in his countenance. He put his trembling hand 
 into his pocket, and pulled out about forty shillings in 
 silver, which he presented to the captain, who swore 
 he would that minute shoot him tn rough the heart, 
 unless he found him coin of another species. To save 
 his life, the sergeant pulled out that which he valued 
 next to it, and presented the captain with a purse full 
 of Jacobuses. 
 
 But though Hind had got possession of the cash, he 
 was inclined to detain the sergeant a little longer, and 
 began the following eulogium upon the value of 
 money : — 
 
 " This, sir, is the metal that wins my heart forever ! 
 O precious gold ! I admire and adore thee as much as 
 either Bradshaw, Prynne, or any other villain of the 
 same stamp, who, for the sake of thee, would sell his 
 Redeemer again, were he now upon earth. This is 
 that incomparable medicament, which the republican 
 physicians call the wonder-working plaster ; it is truly 
 catholic in operation, and somewhat of kin to the 
 Jesuit's powder, but more effectual. The virtues of it 
 are strange and various; it maketh justice deaf as well 
 as blind ; and takes out spots of the deepest treasons 
 as easily as Castile soap does common stains; it alters 
 a man's constitution in two or three days, more than 
 the virtuoso's transfusion of blood can do in seven years. 
 it is a great alexipharmic, and helps poisonous prin- 
 ciples of rebellion, and those that use them; it miracu- 
 lously exalts and purifies the eye-sight, and makes 
 traitors behold nothing but innocence in the blackest 
 malefactors: it is a mighty cordial for a declining 
 cause; it stifles faction and schism as certainly as rats 
 are destroyed by common arsenic: in a word, it makes 
 fools wise men, and wise men fools, and both of them 
 knaves. The very color of this precious balm is bright 
 and dazzling. If it be properly applied to the fist, that 
 is, in a decent manner, and in a competent dose, it 
 
 3 
 
56 LIVES OF HIGHWAx'MEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 infallibly performs all the above-mentioned cures, and 
 many others too numerous to be here mentioned." 
 
 The captain, having finished his panegyric upon the 
 virtues of the glittering metal, pulled out his pistol, 
 and again addressed the Serjeant, saying, " You and 
 your infernal crew have a long while run on, like 
 Jehu, in a career of blood and impiety, falsely pre- 
 tending that zeal for the Lord of Hosts has been your 
 only motive. How long you may be suffered to con- 
 tinue in the same course, God only knows. I will, 
 however, for this time, stop your race in a literal sense 
 of the word." And without farther delay, he shot all 
 the six horses that were in the carriage, and left Brad- 
 shaw to ponder upon the lesson he had received. 
 
 Hind's next adventure was with a company of la- 
 dies, in a coach upon the road between Petersfield and 
 Portsmouth. He accosted them in a polite manner, 
 and informed them that he was a protector of the fair 
 sex, and it was purely to win the favor of a hard- 
 hearted mistress that he had travelled the country. 
 "But, ladies," added he, "I am at this time reduced 
 to the necessity of asking relief, having nothing to 
 carry me on in the intended prosecution of my adven- 
 tures." The young ladies, who had read many ro- 
 mances, could not help concluding that they had met 
 with some Quixote or Amadis de Gaul, who was sa- 
 luting them in the strains of knight-errantry. " Sir 
 knight," said one of the most jocular of the company, 
 " we heartily commiserate your condition, and are 
 very much troubled that we cannot contribute towards 
 your support; for we have nothing about us but a 
 sacred depositum, which the laws of your order will 
 not suffer you to violate." The captain was much 
 pleased at having met with such a pleasant lady, and 
 was much inclined to have permitted them to proceed ; 
 but his necessities were at this time very urgent. 
 " May I, bright ladies, be favored with the knowledge 
 of what this sacred depositum, which you speak of, is, 
 that so I may employ my utmost abilities in its defence, 
 as the laws of knight-errantry require." The lady 
 
CAPTAIN JAMES HIND. 57 
 
 who had spoken before told him, that the depositum 
 she had spoken of was 3000/. the portion of one of the 
 company, who was going to bestow it upon the knight 
 who had won her good-will by his many past services. 
 "Present my humble duty to the knight," said he, . 
 " and be pleased to tell him that my name is captain 
 Hind ; that out of mere necessity I have made bold to 
 borrow part of what, for his sake, I wish were twice 
 as much ; that I promise to expend the sum in defence 
 of injured lovers, and in the support of gentlemen who 
 profess knight-errantry." Upon the name of captain 
 Hind, the fair ones were sufficiently alarmed, as his 
 name was well known all over England. He, how- 
 ever, requested them not to be affrighted, for he would 
 not do them the least injury, and only requested 1000/. 
 of the 3000/. As the money was bound up in several 
 parcels, the request was instantly complied with, and 
 our adventurer wished them a prosperous journey, and 
 many happy days to the bride. 
 
 Taking leave of the captain for a little, we shall 
 inform our readers of the consequences of this extorted 
 loan of the captain's. When the bride arrived at the 
 dwelling of her intended husband, she faithfully re- 
 counted to him her adventures upon the road. The 
 avaricious and embryo curmudgeon refused to accept 
 her hand until her father should agree to make up the 
 loss. Partly because he detested the request of the 
 lover, and partly because he had sufficiently exhausted 
 his funds, the father refused to comply. The pretended 
 lover, therefore, declined her hand, because it was 
 emptied of the third part of her fortune; and the 
 affectionate and high spirited lady died of a broken 
 heart. Hind often declared, that this adventure caused 
 him great uneasiness, while it filled him with detes- 
 tation at the dishonorable and base conduct of the 
 mercenary lover. 
 
 The transactions of Hind were now become so nu- 
 merous, and made him so well known, that he was 
 forced to conceal himself in the country. During this 
 cessation iiom his usual industrious labors, his funds 
 
58 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 • 
 
 became so exhausted, that even his horse was sold to 
 maintain his own life. Impelled by necessity, he often 
 resolved to hazard a few movements upon the high- 
 way; but he had resided so long in that quarter, that 
 he durst not risk any such adventure. Fortune, how- 
 ever, commiserated the condition of the captain, and 
 provided relief. He was informed that a doctor, who 
 resided in the neighborhood, had gone to receive a 
 handsome fee for a cure which he had effected. The 
 captain then lived in a small house which he had 
 hired upon the side of a common, and which the doctor 
 had to pass in his journey home. Hind, having long 
 and impatiently waited his arrival, ran up to him, and 
 in the most piteous tone and suppliant language, told 
 the doctor his wife was suddenly seized with illness, 
 and that unless she got some assistance she would 
 certainly perish, and entreated him just to tarry for a 
 minute or two and lend her his medical assistance, and 
 heVould gratefully pay him for his trouble as soon as 
 it was in his power. 
 
 The tender-hearted doctor, moved with compassion, 
 alighted and accompanied him into his house, assuring 
 him that he should be very happy to be of any service 
 in restoring his wife to health. Hind showed the 
 doctor up-stairs; but they had no sooner entered the 
 door, than lie locked it, presented a pistol, showing, at 
 the same time, his empty purse, saying: "This is 
 my wife ; she has so long been unwell, that there is 
 now nothing at all within her. I know, sir, that you 
 have a sovereign remedy in your pocket for her dis- 
 temper, and if you do not apply it without a word, 
 this pistol will make the day shine into your body !" 
 The doctor would have been content to have lost his 
 fee, upon condition of being delivered from the impor- 
 tunities of his patient; but it required only a small de- 
 gree of the knowledge of symptoms to be convinced, 
 that obedience was the only thing which remained for 
 him to observe: he therefore emptied his own purse 
 of forty guineas into that of the captain, and thus left 
 our hero's wife in a convalescent state. Hind then 
 
CAPTAIN JAMES HIND. 59 
 
 informed the doctor, that he would leave him id pos- 
 session of his whole house, to reimburse him f >r the 
 money which lie had taken from him. £o saying, he 
 locked the cbor upon the doctor, mounted 'hat geot.> 
 man's horse, and went in quest of another county, 
 since this had become too hot for him. 
 
 Hind has been often celebrated for his generosity to 
 the poor; and the following is a remarkable instance 
 of his virtue in that particular. He was upon one 
 occasion extremely destitute of cash, and had wailed 
 long upon the road without receiving any supply. An 
 old man, jogging along upon an ass. at length appeared. 
 He rode up to him, and very politely inquired where 
 he was going. " To the market," said the old man 
 " at Wantage, to buy me a cow, that I may have some 
 milk for my children." "How many children have 
 you?" The old man answered, " Ten." "And how 
 much do you mean to give for a cow?" said Hind. 
 "I have but forty shillings, master, and that I have 
 been scraping together these two years." Hind's heart 
 ached for the poor man's condition; at the same time 
 he could not help admiring his simplicity ; but. being 
 in absolute want himself, he thought of an expedient 
 which would serve both himself and the poor old man. 
 "Father," said he, "the money which you have is 
 necessary for me at this time : but T will not wrong 
 your children of their milk. My name is Hind, and 
 if you will give me your forty shillings quietly, and 
 meet me again this day se'nnight at this place, I pro- 
 mise to make the sum double." The old man reluc- 
 tantly consented, and Hind enjoined him to "be cau- 
 tious not to mention a word of the matter to any body 
 between this and that time." The old man came at 
 the appointed time, and received as much as would 
 purchase two cows, and twenty shillings more, that he 
 might thereby have the best in the market. 
 
 Though Hind had long frequented the road, yet he 
 carefully avoided shedding blood; and the following 
 is the only instance of this nature related of him. He 
 had one morning committed several robberies, and 
 
60 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROSBESS. 
 
 among others, had taken more than 70Z. from colonel 
 Harrison, the celebrated parliamentary general. As 
 the Roundheads were Hind's inveterate foes, the colo- 
 nel immediately raised the hue-and-cry after him, 
 which was circulated in that part Of the country be- 
 fore the captain was aware of it. At last, however, 
 he received intelligence at one of the inns upon the 
 road, and made every possible haste to fly the scene 
 of danger. In this situation the captain was apprehen- 
 sive of every person he met upon the road. He had 
 reached a place called Knowl Hill, when the servant 
 of a gentleman, who was following his master, came 
 riding at full speed behind him. Hind, supposing that 
 it was one in pursuit of himself, upon his coming up, 
 turned about, and shot him through the head, when 
 the unfortunate man fell dead upon the spot. Fortune 
 favored the captain at this time, and he got off in 
 safety. 
 
 The following adventure closes the narrative of 
 Hind's busy life. After Charles I. was beheaded, the 
 Scots remained loyal, proclaimed his son Charles II., 
 and resolved to maintain his right against the usurper. 
 They suddenly raised an army, and entering England, 
 proceeded as far as Worcester. Multitudes of the 
 English joined the royal army, and among these cap- 
 tain Hind, who was loyal from principle, and brave 
 by nature. Cromwell was sent by Parliament with 
 an army to intercept the march of the royalists. Both 
 armies met at Worcester, and a desperate and bloody 
 battle ensued. The king's army was routed. Captain 
 Hind had the good fortune to escape, and, reaching 
 London, lived in a retired situation. Here, however, 
 he had not remained long, when he was betrayed by 
 one of his intimate acquaintances. It will readily be 
 granted that his actions merited death by the law of 
 his country, but the mind recoils with horror from the 
 thought of treachery in an intimate friend. 
 
 Hind was carried before the speaker of the house 
 of commons, and, after a long examination, was com- 
 mitted to Newgate and loaded with irons : nor was 
 
THE GERMAN PRINCESS. 61 
 
 any person allowed to converse with him without a 
 special permission. He was brought to the bar of the 
 session-house at the Old Bailey, indicted for several 
 crimes, but, for want of sufficient evidence, nothing 
 worthy of death could be proved against him. Not 
 long after this, he was sent down to Reading under a 
 strong guard, and, being arraigned before judge War- 
 burton, for killing George Symson at Knowl Hill, as 
 formerly mentioned, he was convicted of wilful mur- 
 der. An act of indemnity for all past offences was 
 issued at this time, and he hoped to have been in- 
 cluded; but an order of council removed him to Wor- 
 cester gaol, where he was condemned for high treason, 
 and hanged, drawn, and quartered, on the 24th Sep- 
 tember 1652, aged thirty-four years. His head was 
 stuck upon the top of the bridge over the Severn, and 
 the other parts of his body placed upon the gates of 
 the city. The head was privately taken down and 
 interred, but the remaining parts of his body remained 
 until consumed by the influence of the weather. 
 
 In his last moments he declared that his principal 
 depredations had been committed against the republican 
 party, and that he was sorry for nothing so much as 
 not living to see his royal master restored.. 
 
 THE GERMAN PRINCESS. 
 
 Though this remarkable female character was de- 
 nominated a German Princess, for a reason which will 
 be mentioned in the course of her narrative, she was a 
 native of Canterbury, and her father a chorister of that 
 cathedral. From her sprightly and volatile disposition, 
 she at an early period took delight in reading the 
 novels that were at that time fashionable, — such as 
 Parismus and Parismanus, Don Bellianis of Greece, 
 Amadis de Gaul, and Cassandra and Cleopatra ; and 
 
 F 
 
62 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 in a little time really believed what she wished, even 
 that she was a princess. 
 
 But in her marriage she lost sight of her exalted 
 conceptions, and united her fortune with a journeyman 
 shoemaker. She resided with him until she had two 
 children, who both died in their infancy. The indus- 
 trious shoemaker was unable to support her extrava- 
 gance, so that she at last left him, to seek her fortune 
 elsewhere. 
 
 A woman of her figure, beauty, and address, was 
 not long before she procured another husband. She 
 went to Dover, and married a surgeon of that place, 
 but, being apprehended and tried at Maidstone for 
 having two husbands, by some dexterous manoeuvre 
 she was acquitted. 
 
 She presently after embarked for Holland, and tra- 
 velled by land to Cologne, and having a considerable 
 sum of money, took handsome lodgings at a house of 
 entertainment, and cut a dashing figure. As it is cus- 
 tomary for the gentry in England to frequent Brighton 
 during the season, so it was then customary for those 
 in Germany to frequent the Spa. Our heroine went 
 thithei, and was addressed by an old gentleman who 
 had a good estate in the vicinity. With the assistance 
 of her landlady, she managed this affair with great 
 art. The old gentleman presented her with several 
 fine jewels, besides a gold chain and costly medal, 
 which had been given him, for some gallant, action 
 under count Tilly, against the valiant Gustavus Adol- 
 phus of Sweden. He at length began to press matri- 
 mony with all the keenness of a young lover, and, 
 unable to resist the siege any longer, she consented to 
 make him happy in three days. Meanwhile, he sup- 
 plied her with money in great profusion, and she was 
 requested to prepare what things she pleased for the 
 wedding. The Princess now deemed it high time to 
 be gone, and, to secure her retreat, acquainted her 
 landlady with her design. Having already shared 
 largely of the spoils that our adventurer had received 
 from her old doating lover, the aged beldame, in hopes 
 
THE GERMAN PRINCESS. 63 
 
 of pillaging him a little more, encouraged and aided 
 her flight. Our heroine requested her to go and pro- 
 vide her a seat in a carriage which took a different 
 road from that of Cologne, as she did not wish that 
 her lover should be able to trace her route. When our 
 Princess found herself alone, she broke open a chest in 
 which the good woman had deposited all her share 
 of the spoil that she had received from our heroine, as 
 well as her own money. Madame made free with all, 
 and took her passage to Utrecht, from thence went to 
 Amsterdam, sold her chains and some jewels, and 
 then passed into Rotterdam, from whence she speedily 
 embarked for England. 
 
 She landed at Billingsgate, one morning very early 
 in the end of March 1663, and found no house open 
 until she came to the Exchange inn, where she at- 
 tained to the dignity of a German princess in the fol- 
 lowing manner. In this inn, she got into the company 
 of some gentlemen who, she perceived, were full of 
 money, and these addressing her in a rude manner, 
 she began to weep most bitterly, exclaiming that it 
 was extremely hard for her to be reduced to this ex- 
 treme distress, who was once a princess. Here she 
 recited the story of her extraction and education, and 
 much about her pretended father, the lord Henry 
 Vanwolway, a prince of the empire, and independent 
 of every man but his Imperial Majesty. M Certainly," 
 said she, " any gentleman here present may conceive 
 what a painful situation this must be to me to be thus 
 reduced, brought up as 1 have been under the care of 
 an indulgent father, and in all the luxuries of a court. 
 But, alas! what do I say? — Indulgent father! was 
 it not his cruelty which banished me, his only daugh- 
 ter, from his dominions, merely for marrying, without 
 his knowledge, -a nobleman of the court whom I loved 
 to excess? Was it not my fa '-her who occasioned my 
 dear lord and husband to be cut off in the bloom of his 
 age, by falsely accusing him of a design against his 
 person, — a deed which his virtuous soul abhorred ?" 
 Here she pretended that the poignancy of her feelings 
 
64 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS 
 
 would allow her to relate no more of her unfortunate 
 history. 
 
 The whole company was touched with compassion 
 at the melancholy tale, which she related with so much 
 unaffected simplicity, that they had not a doubt of its 
 truth. Compassionating her unfortunate situation, 
 they requested her acceptance of all the money they 
 had about them, promising to return again with more. 
 They were as good as their promise, and she ever after 
 went by the name of the unfortunate German Princess. 
 
 The man who kept the inn, knowing that she was 
 come from the continent, and seeing that she had great 
 riches about her, was disposed more than ever to be- 
 lieve the truth of her story- Nor was Madame back- 
 ward to inform him, that she had collected all that she 
 possessed from the benevolent contributions of neigh- 
 boring princes, who knew and pitied her misfortunes. 
 M Nor durst any one of them," continued she, " let my 
 father know what they had done, or where I am, for 
 he was so much more powerful than any of them, 
 that if he understood that anv one favored me, he 
 would instantly make war upon them." 
 
 King, the innkeeper, being convinced of her rank 
 and fortune, John Carleton, his brother-in-law, no 
 doubt receiving proper information from King, became 
 enamored of the Princess, and presumed to pay his 
 addresses to her. She was highly displeased at first, 
 but, fiom his importunity, was at last prevailed upon 
 to descend from her station, and receive the hand of a 
 common man. Poor Carleton thought himself the 
 happiest of mortals, in being thus so highly honored 
 by a union with such an accomplished and amiable 
 princess, possessed of an ample fortune, though far 
 inferior to what she had a right to expect from her 
 noble birth. 
 
 But, during this dream of pleasure, Mr. King re- 
 ceived a letter, informing him, that the woman who 
 resided at his house, and was married to his brother- 
 in-law, was an impostor, that she had already been 
 married to two husbands, and had eloped with all the 
 
THE GERMAN PRINCESS. 65 
 
 money she could lay her hands on : and that the writer 
 said nothing but what could be proved by the most 
 unquestionable evidence in a court of justice. The 
 consequence was, that a prosecution was instituted 
 against her for polygamy; but from insufficient evi- 
 dence she was acquitted. 
 
 She was then introduced as an actress among the 
 players, and by them supported for some time. Upon 
 the strength of her popularity the house was often 
 crowded, and the public curiosity was excited by, a 
 woman who had made such a figure in the world, and 
 was receiving great applause in her dramatic capacity. 
 She generally appeared in characters suited to her 
 habits of life, and those scenes which had been ren- 
 dered familiar to her by former deception and intrigues. 
 But what tended chiefly to promote her fame, was a 
 play called the "German Princess," written principally 
 upon her account, in which she spoke the following 
 prologue in such a manner as gained^ universal ap- 
 plause. 
 
 I 've passed one trial, but it is my fear 
 
 I shall receive a rigid sentence here : 
 
 You think me a bold cheat, but case 't were so, 
 
 "Which of you are not ? Now you 'd swear, I know ; 
 
 But do not, lest that you deserve to be 
 
 Censured worse than you can censure me ; 
 
 The world 's a cheat, and we that move in it 
 
 In our degrees do exercise our wit; 
 
 And better 't is to get a glorious name, 
 
 However got, than live by common fame. 
 
 The Princess had too much mercury in her consti- 
 tution to remain long within the bounds of a theatre, 
 when London itself was too limited for her volatile 
 disposition. She did not, however, leave the theatre 
 until she had procured many admirers. Her history 
 was well known, as well as her accomplishments and 
 her gallantry, and introduced her into company. She 
 was easy of access, but in society carried herself with 
 an affected air of indifference. 
 
 There were two young beaux, in particular, who 
 had more money in their pockets than wit in their 
 

 66 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 heads; and from the scarcity of that commodity in 
 themselves, they the more admired her wit and humor. 
 She encouraged their addresses until she had extracted 
 about three hundred pounds from each of them, and 
 then observing their funds were nearly exhausted, dis- 
 carded them both, saying, she was astonished at their 
 impudence, in making love to a princess! 
 
 Her next lover was an old gentleman about fifty, 
 who saw her, and though he was acquainted with her 
 history, nevertheless resolved to be at the expense of 
 some hundreds a year, provided she would consent to 
 live with him. To gain his purpose he sent her several 
 rich presents, which, with seeming reluctance, she 
 accepted. When they commenced living together as 
 man and wife, she so accommodated herself to his 
 temper and disposition that he was constantly making 
 her rich presents, which were always accepted with 
 apparent reluctance, as laying her under so many obli- 
 gations. In this manner they continued, until her 
 doating lover one evening coming home intoxicated, 
 she thought it a proper opportunity to decamp. So 
 soon as he was asleep, she rifled his pockets, and found 
 his pocket-book, containing a bill for a hundred pounds, 
 and some money. She also stripped him of his watch, 
 and, taking his keys, opened his coffers, and carried 
 off every thing that suited her purpose. She next 
 went and presented the bill, and, as the acceptor knew 
 her, received the money without hesitation. 
 
 Having thus fleeced her old lover, our German prin- 
 cess took up lodgings in a convenient place, under the 
 character of a young lady with a thousand pounds, 
 whose father was able to give her twice as much ; but 
 disliking a person whom he had provided as a husband 
 for her, she had left her father's house, and did not 
 wish to be discovered by any of her friends. Madame 
 now continued to have different letters sent her from 
 time to time, containing an account of all the news 
 concerning her father and lover. These were left 
 carelessly about the room, and her landlady reading 
 them, became confirmed in the belief of her story. 
 
THE GERMAN PRINCESS. 6 7 
 
 This woman had a rich nephew, a young man, who, 
 having been introduced to her acquaintance, became 
 enamored of her, and to gain her favor presented her 
 with a gold watch, which she could hardly be pre- 
 vailed upon to accept. Her lover already thought the 
 door of paradise open to him, and their amour pro- 
 ceeded with all the mutual felicity that young lovers 
 can expect or desire. But in this season of bliss, a 
 porter knocked at the door with a letter. Her maid, 
 as previously directed, brought the letter in to her. 
 which she had no sooner read, than she exclaimed, " 1 
 am undone ! I am ruined !" — and pretended to swoon 
 away. The scent bottle was employed, and her en- 
 raptured lover was all kindness and attention. When 
 she was a little recovered, she presented the letter, 
 saying, " Sir, since you are at last acquainted with 
 most of my concerns, I shall not make a secret of this; 
 therefore, if you please, read this letter and know the 
 occasion of my affliction." The young gentleman re- 
 ceived it, and read as follows : 
 
 u Dear Madam, 
 
 " I have several times taken my pen in my hand, on 
 purpose to write you, and as often laid it aside again, 
 for fear of giving you more trouble than you already 
 labor under. However, as the affair so immediately 
 concerns yon, I cannot in justice hide what I tremblr 
 to disclose, but must in duty tell you the worst of 
 news, whatever may be the consequence of my s< 
 doing. 
 
 u Know, then, that your affectionate and tender 
 brother is dead. I am sensible how dear he was to 
 you, and you to him, yet let me entreat you, for your 
 own sake, to acquiesce in the will of Providence as 
 much as possible, since our lives are all at his disposal 
 who gave us being. I could use another argument to 
 comfort you, that, with a sister less loving than you, 
 would be of more weight than that I have urged ; but 
 1 know your soul is above all mercenary views. I 
 cannot, however, forbear to inform you, that he has 
 
b8 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 left you all he had ; and farther, that your father's 
 estate of 200/. per annum, can devolve upon no other 
 person than yourself, who are now his only child. 
 
 " What 1 am next to acquaint you with may, per- 
 haps, be almost as bad as the former particular. Your 
 hated lover has been so importunate with yonr father, 
 especially since your brother's decease, that the old 
 gentleman resolves, if ever he should hear of you any 
 more, to marry you to him, and he makes this the 
 condition of your being again received into his favor, 
 and having your former disobedience, as he calls it, 
 forgiven. While your brother lived, he was every day 
 endeavoring to soften the heart of your father, and we 
 were only last week in hopes he would have consented 
 to let yon follow your inclinations, if you would come 
 home to him again; but now there is no advocate in 
 your cause who can work upon the man's peevish' 
 temper ; for he says, as you are now his sole heir, he 
 ought to be more resolute in the disposal of you in 
 marriage. 
 
 " While I am now writing, I am surprised with an 
 account that your father and lover are preparing to 
 come to London, where, they say, they can find you 
 out. Whether or not this be only a device, I cannot 
 tell, nor can I conceive where they could receive their 
 information, if it be true. However, to prevent the 
 worst, consider whether or not you can cast off your 
 old aversion, and submit to your father's commands; 
 for if you cannot, it will be most advisable in my 
 opinion to change your residence. I have no more to 
 say in the affair, being unwilling to direct you in such 
 a very nice circumstance. The temper of your own 
 mind will be the best instructer you can apply to; for 
 your future happiness or misery during life depends 
 on yonr choice. I hope that every thing will turn out 
 for the best. 
 
 " From your sincere friend, S. E." 
 
 Her lover saw that she had good reason to bo 
 afflicted, and, whilst he seemed to feel for her, he was 
 
THE GERMAN PRINCESS. 69 
 
 no less concerned about his own interest. He advised 
 her immediately to leave her lodgings, and added that 
 he had very elegant apartments which were at her 
 service. She accepted his offer; and, with her maid, 
 who was informed of her intentions, and prepared to 
 assist her, immediately set out for the residence of her 
 lover. When introduced to their new apartment, these 
 ladies did not go to bed, as they had resolved to depart 
 next morning, but lay down to rest themselves with 
 their clothes on. When the house was all quiet, they 
 broke open the lover's desk, took out a bag with a 
 hundred pounds, two suits of clpthes, and every thing 
 valuable that they could carry along with them. 
 
 Her numerous and varied adventures would far ex- 
 ceed the limits appropriated to one life in this vo- 
 lume. It is sufficient to observe, that rather than her 
 hands should be unemployed, or her avaricious dispo- 
 sition unsatisfied, she would carry off the most trifling 
 article ; that, according to the proverb, all was fish 
 that came into her net; and that when a watch, a 
 diamond, or piece of plate could not be found, a napkin, 
 a pair of sheets, or any article of wearing apparel, 
 would suffice. 
 
 One day she, along with her pretended maid, went 
 into a mercer's shop in Cheapside, and purchased a 
 piece of silk to the value of six pounds. She pulled out 
 her purse to pay the draper, but to her surprise found 
 that she had no money except some large pieces of 
 gold, for which she had so high an esteem, that she 
 could not think of parting with them. The polite 
 draper, on his part, could not think of hurting the 
 feelings of a lady so elegantly dressed, and, accord- 
 ingly, dispatched one of his shopkeepers along with 
 her to receive his money. Arrived at the Royal Ex- 
 change, Madame ordered the coachman to stop, when, 
 upon pretence of purchasing some ribands that would 
 suit the silks, her maid carried out the parcel, and 
 went along with her, leaving the shopman in the coach 
 to wait their return. The young man waited in the 
 coach, until he was impatient and ashamed, and then 
 
L T VES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 returned home to relate his misfortunes, and the loss 
 of his master. 
 
 Upon another occasion Madame waited upon a 
 French weaver in Spitalfields, and purchased goods to 
 the amount of forty pounds. He went home with her 
 to carry the parcel and to receive his money. She de- 
 sired him to make out a bill for the whole of the goods, 
 as one half belonged to a lady in the next room. With 
 all the ceremony natural to a Frenchman, he sat down 
 to write his account, while she took the silk into the 
 adjacent room to show it to her niece, to whom the one 
 half belonged. By means of a bottle of wine which 
 Madame had placed before the French weaver, half an 
 h^iir passed over without much uneasiness. At length 
 his patience was exhausted, and, having called up the 
 people of the house, he inquired for the lady who came 
 in with him, and who told him she was only gone into 
 the next room. To the utter confusion and disappoint- 
 ment of poor Monsieur, he was informed that his lady 
 was gone, and would, they believed, return no more to 
 that dwelling. To calm his rage, and to convince him 
 that they were not confederates in her villany, they 
 conveyed him to the next room, and showed him, that 
 the proper entry to her apartment was by a back stair ; 
 adding, that she had only taken their room for a month, 
 for which she had paid them, and that her time being 
 expired, they knew not whither she had gone. 
 
 Determined to collect her contributions from house- 
 holders instead of travellers, she next took lodgings 
 from a tailor. As it was natural for a generous, good- 
 hearted lady to promote the prosperity of the family 
 where she resided, Madame employed the tailor to 
 make the goods she had procured from the mercer and 
 the weaver. Convinced that he had got an excellent 
 job, as well as a rich lodger, the tailor, with mirth and 
 song, sat down to make Madame's dresses. As she 
 acquainted him that upon a specified day she was to 
 have a large party, the tailor called in all his journey- 
 men to his aid, and had the whole finished by that 
 time. Meanwhile, the Princess gave her landlady a 
 
THE GERMAN PRINCESS. 71 
 
 guinea to purchase what things she deemed necessary, 
 promising to pay her the remainder the following day. 
 The day arrived, the guests appeared, an elegant en- 
 tertainment was served up, and plenty of wine drunk. 
 None were without their due portion. The tailor had 
 plied his glass so plentifully, that his wife had to lend 
 him her assistance to his bed-chamber. This answered 
 the design of our Princess. She and all her company 
 departed one by one, carrying away, each a silver 
 tankard, or a saltcellar, or a knife, or a fork, while the 
 maid carried off all the clothes that were not upon 
 their backs. The moment they reached the street, the 
 maid was placed in a coach with the booty, and the 
 rest of the company took different directions, none of 
 them being discovered. Thus a merry night brought 
 a sorrowful morning to the poor industrious tailor. 
 
 Madame being attacked with a fit of mourning, sent 
 her confidential maid to a shop in the New Exchange, 
 where she had purchased a few articles the previous 
 day. The woman of the shop, with all possible expe- 
 dition, selected the best specimens of her goods, and 
 hastened to the lodgings. Madame was so very much 
 indisposed when the milliner arrived, that she could 
 not look at the things, and desired her to return after 
 dinner, when she doubted not but they would agree as 
 to the price. The obliging milliner was satisfied, and 
 requested liberty to leave her goods until she returned, 
 a request which was readily granted. At the hour 
 appointed she returned, and inquired if the lady up 
 stairs were at home. To her great mortification she 
 was informed that she was gone they could not tell 
 where, and that she did not intend to return. But 
 before her departure she had conveyed away the valu- 
 able part of her effects. Thus both her landlady and 
 the milliner were left to regret her absence, and to re- 
 flect upon their own easy credulity and loss. 
 
 But the adventures of our ingenious Princess increase 
 in magnitude as they multiply in number. Being ar- 
 rayed in her sable robes, and having taken lodgings in 
 Holborn, she sent for a barrister of Gray's Inn, and 
 
72 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 informed hiixi, that by the death of her father, she was 
 sole heir to his fortune, but that she was married to an 
 extravagant husband, who was resolved to secure her 
 property to himself. Here she poured forth a torrent 
 of tears and the most grievous lamentations, the more 
 to interest the young barrister in her favor. But while 
 the lawyer was squaring his features to the occasion, 
 and talking of the matter in a learned and eloquent 
 strain, a woman ran up stairs, exclaiming, :; O, madam, 
 we are all undone! for my master is below; he has 
 been asking for you, and swears that he will come up 
 to your chamber. I am afraid the people of the house 
 will not be able to hinder him, he appears so resolute." 
 — "O heavens!" exclaimed Madame, "what shall I 
 do?"— "Why?" cried the lawyer. "Why!" quoth 
 she, "I mean how shall I dispose of you? Dear me, 
 what excuse shall I make for your being here? I dare 
 not tell him your quality and business, for that would 
 endanger all ; and, on the other side, he is extremely 
 jealous. Therefore, good sir, step into that closet until 
 1 can send him away." Surprised, and at a loss what 
 to do, the lawyer complied. The closet being locked, 
 and the curtains of the bed drawn, she opened the door 
 to her husband, who was loudly demanding admit- 
 tance. 
 
 The moment he entered, he gave his spouse the mosi 
 opprobrious language. " O, mistress abandoned ! I un- 
 derstand you have a man in the room : a pretty com- 
 panion for a poor innocent woman, truly ! one who is 
 always complaining how hardly I use her. Where is 
 the villain? I shall sacrifice him this moment. Is this 
 your modesty, madam? this your virtue ? Let me see 
 your gallant immediately, or, by the light! you shall 
 be the first victim yourself." Saying this, he' made to 
 the closet door, and burst it open like a fury. The 
 young lawyer was discovered with shame, though in- 
 nocent, and trembling in every limb. The husband's 
 sword was unsheathed, and death was before the bar- 
 rister's eyes. But Madame, interposing, seemed deter- 
 mined rather to die herself than to suffer the blood of 
 
"THE GEKMAN PRINCESS. 73 
 
 an innocent man to stain her chamber. A companion 
 of the husband also fortunately came to her assistance, 
 and seizing the arm of the infuriated man, struggled to 
 wrest the sword from his hand. 
 
 The discernment of the lawyer soon discovered the 
 deception, and, to exculpate and relieve himself, he 
 candidly related the whole matter, and the reason for 
 which he was introduced into that place. But all was 
 in vain. The injured and enraged husband insisted 
 that this was only a feigned narrative to cover his vil- 
 lany, and nothing but his blood, or an adequate remu- 
 neration, would assuage his fury. The cause was at 
 last referred to the arbitration of the kind stranger who 
 had interfered, and aided Madame in protecting the 
 young lawyer. Five hundred pounds were proposed 
 as a proper recompense ; but that was far beyond the 
 power of the laAvyer to command. It was with no 
 small difficulty agreed that he should give a hundred 
 pounds, rather than be found exposed to the conse- 
 quences of detection, in a situation where he was una- 
 ble to vindicate his innocence. He sent a note to a 
 friend for that sum, the confederates being careful to 
 examine it before it was transmitted, lest it should be 
 for a constable, instead of a hundred pounds. Upon 
 the payment of that sum the lawyer was liberated, and 
 went off with the bitter reflection, that, instead of re- 
 ceiving a good fee for writing a deed of settlement, he 
 had paid a hundred pounds for a few minutes' lodging 
 in a closet; but, consoling himself with the hopes of 
 seeing this amiable widow speedily exalted to merited 
 honor. 
 
 The good wishes of the lawyer were in a very few 
 years verified in her history. Not long after this, Ma- 
 dame was apprehended, accused of stealing a silver 
 tankard at Covent Garden, and sent to Newgate. At 
 the next sessions she was tried, and transported to Ja- 
 maica ; where, however, she only remained two years, 
 Avhen she returned to England, and appeared in the 
 character of a great heiress. The result of this artifice 
 was, that she was specdilv married to a rich apotheca- 
 G 
 
74 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 ry, whom she soon robbed of above three hundred 
 pounds, and then left him to resolve the question whe- 
 the loss of his money or the loss of his wife was the 
 greatest misfortune. Madame went next to lodge in 
 a house where the landlady, a watchmaker, herself, 
 and her faithful maid, composed the whole family. 
 Having established her character for sobriety and pro- 
 bity, she invited her landlady and the watchmaker to 
 the play, and treated them with tickets. They accepted 
 the invitation, and the maid remained at home, sole 
 guardian of the garrison. But during their absence, 
 she broke open the locks, extracted about two hundred 
 pounds, and made free with about thirty watches; so 
 that her spoil amounted in all to six hundred pounds, 
 which she carried to the appointed place of rendezvous. 
 Meanwhile, Madame, not satisfied with treating the 
 watchmaker and her good landlady with tickets to the 
 play, after it was over took them to a tavern to treat 
 them to a small collation, where she embraced an op- 
 portunity to decamp. 
 
 It happened that one Mr. Freeman, a brewer, had 
 been robbed of two hundred pounds, and that an officer 
 had been sent to search every suspected place for the 
 thieves. One Lancaster was the person upon whom 
 suspicion chiefly rested, and, while searching a house 
 for. him, they discovered Madame walking in a night- 
 gown. The thief-catcher entered her room, and, seeing 
 two letters upon the table, he began to examine their 
 contents. Madame was highly displeased with his 
 impertinent freedom, and, in the course of the dispute 
 which ensued, he had occasion to examine the features 
 of her countenance, and recognising her ladyship, took 
 both her and her letters along with him. 
 
 When removed to the Old Bailey, she was interro- 
 gated, whether she was the woman who usually went 
 by the name of Mary Carleton. She answered, "Yes." 
 The court then demanded the reason of her return from 
 banishment before the specified time. She made many 
 trifling excuses, which detained the court for a few 
 iays ; but finding these excuses would not answer her 
 
THE GERMAN PRINCESS. 75 
 
 purpose, she pleaded pregnancy. A committee of ma- 
 trons was then appointed to examine her, who gave a 
 verdict against her, and she was condemned to suffer 
 in conformity with her previous sentence. 
 
 In prison she was visited by many, out of curiosity 
 to see the behavior of such a remarkable character in 
 confinement and under sentence of death ; and several 
 clergymen attended her to conduct her devotions, and 
 to direct her in her calamitous situation. She confessed 
 herself to be a Roman Catholic, and sincerely bewailed 
 her criminal conduct, frequently wishing that she could 
 again renew her life, in order to spend it in a more 
 exemplary and virtuous manner. 
 
 On the day of her execution, she appeared more 
 cheerful and gay than usual, and, placing the picture 
 of her husband upon her arm, she went to Tyburn 
 with it. She appeared devout, and, when she heard 
 St. Sepulchre's bell begin to toll, uttered several pious 
 ejaculations. To a friend, who rode in a cart with her 
 to the place of execution, she delivered two Roman 
 Catholic books ; and, addressing the multitude, owned 
 that she had been a very vain woman, and hoped that 
 her fate would deter others from the same evil ways; 
 and that, though the world had condemned her, she 
 had much to say for herself. Then, praying God to 
 forgive her as she did her most inveterate enemies, she 
 was in a few minutes launched into eternity. She was 
 executed in the year 1672, in the thirty-eighth year of 
 her age, and in the same month of the year in which 
 she was born. 
 
76 
 
 CAPTAIN DUDLEY. 
 
 attain Dudley was born at Swepston in Leicw.w- 
 liire. His father once possessed a considerable estate, 
 but through extravagance lost the whole except about 
 sixty pounds per annum. In these reduced circum- 
 stances he went to London, intending to live in ob- 
 6T»irity, corresponding to the state of his finances. 
 
 Richard his son had a promising genius, and received 
 a liberal education at St. Paul's school. But a natu- 
 rally vicious disposition baffled all restraints. When 
 only nine years old he showed his covetous disposition, 
 by robbing his sister of thirty shillings, and absconding 
 with it. In a few days, however, he was found, 
 brought home, and sent to school, where his vicious 
 propensities were only strengthened by indulgence. 
 Impatient of the confinement of a school, he next robbed 
 his father of a considerable sum of money, and ab- 
 sconded. His father, however, discovered his retreat, 
 and found him a little way from town in the company 
 of two loose women. 
 
 Despairing of his settling at home, his father sent 
 him on board a man-of-war, in which he sailed up the 
 straits, and behaved gallantly in several actions. Upon 
 his arrival in England, he left the ship, under the pre- 
 tence that a younger officer had been preferred before 
 him, upon the death of one of the lieutenants. In a 
 short time he joined a band of thieves, assisted them in 
 robbing the country-house of admiral Carter, and 
 escaped detection. Having at length commenced rob- 
 ber, the first remarkable robbery in which he was 
 engaged, was that of breaking into the house of a lady 
 of Blackheath, and carrying off a large quantity of 
 plate. 
 
CAPTAIN DUDLEY. 77 
 
 He and his associates were successful in selling the 
 plate to a refiner ; but in a short time he was appre- 
 hended for the robbery, and committed to Newgate. 
 While there, he sent for the refiner, and severely re- 
 proached him in the following manner: " It is," said 
 ho, " a hard matter to find an honest man and a fair 
 dealer : for, you cursed rogue, among the plate you 
 bought there was a cup with a cover, which you told 
 us was but silver gilt, buying it at the same price with 
 the rest; but it plainly appeared, by the advertisement 
 in the gazette, that it was a gold cup and cover ; I see 
 you are a rogue, and that there is no trusting any 
 body." Dudley was tried, convicted for this robbery, 
 and sentenced to death : but his youth, and the interest 
 of his friends, procured him a royal pardon. 
 
 For two years he conducted himself to the satisfac- 
 tion of his father, so that he purchased for him a com- 
 mission in the army. In that situation he also acquit- 
 ted himself honorably, and married a young lady of a 
 respectable family, with whom he received an estate 
 of a hundred and forty pounds a year. This, with his 
 commission, enabled them to live in a genteel manner. 
 Delighting, however, in company, and having become 
 security for one of his companions for a debt, and that 
 person being arrested for it, one of the bailiffs was 
 killed in the scuffle, and Dudley was suspected of being 
 the murderer. 
 
 What strengthened this suspicion was, that Dudley 
 was the avowed enemy of all that class of society. * He 
 deemed a bailiff in England, or what is known in Scot- 
 land by the name of messenger, as one who is deter- 
 mined to strip every person who comes under his power 
 of all he possibly can. 
 
 But, leaving the statements of Dudley concerning 
 these men, let us return to the relation of his actions 
 Having banished every virtuous feeling, being more 
 inclined to live upon the ruins of his country than the 
 fruits of his industry, and more disposed to fight than 
 to work, he abandoned his own house, and joined a 
 band of robbers. Dudley soon became so expert a 
 
78 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 robber, that there was scarcely any robbery committed 
 but he acted a principal part in it. Pleased with this 
 easy way of obtaining money, and of supporting an 
 extravagant expense, he also prevailed upon Will, his 
 brother, :o join him in this employment. It happened, 
 however, that Will had not been long in his new occu- 
 pation, when the captain was apprehended for robbing 
 a gentleman of a watch, a sword, a whip, and nine 
 shillings. But, fortunately for him, the evidence was 
 defective, and he escaped death a second time. 
 
 Now hardened in vice, he immediately recurred to 
 his old trade. He robbed on the highway, broke into 
 houses, picked pockets, or performed any act of vio- 
 lence or cunning by which he could procure money. 
 Fortune favored him long, and he went on with impu- 
 nity, but was at last apprehended for robbing Sir John 
 Friend's house. Upon trial the evidence was decisive, 
 and he received sentence of death. His friends again 
 interposed, and through their influence his sentence 
 was changed for that of banishment. Accordingly, he 
 and several other convicts were put on board a ship 
 bound for Barbadoes. But they had scarcely reached 
 the Isle of Wight, when he excited his companions to a 
 conspiracy, and, having concerted their measures while 
 the ship's company were under hatches, they went off 
 with the longboat. 
 
 No sooner had he reached the shore than he aban- 
 doned his companions, and travelled through woods 
 and by-paths. Being in a very mean dress, he begged 
 when he had no opportunity to steal. Arriving, how- 
 ever, at Hounslow heath, he met with a farmer, robbed 
 him, seized his horse, and, having mounted, set forward 
 in quest of new spoils. This was a fortunate day, for 
 Dudley had not proceeded far on the heath when a 
 gentleman, well dressed, and better mounted than the 
 farmer, made his appearance. He was commanded to 
 halt and to surrender. Dudley led him aside into a 
 retired thicket, exchanged clothes and horse, rifled his 
 pockets, and then addressed him, saying, that '* he 
 ought never to accuse him of robbing him, for accord- 
 
CAPTAIN DUDLEY. 79 
 
 ln^ to the old proverb, exchange was no robbery;" so 
 bid tng hirn good day, he marched off for London. Ar- 
 rive ( there, he went in search of his old associates, who 
 wen glad to see their friend ; and who, in consequence 
 of hi ■: fortunate adventures and high reputation among 
 them conferred upon him the title of captain, all agree- 
 ing to be subject to his commands. Thus, at the head 
 of sucu an experienced and desperate band, no part of 
 the country was secure from his rapine, nor any house 
 sufficiently strong to keep him out. The natural con- 
 sequences were, that he soon became known and dread- 
 ed all over the country. 
 
 To avoid capture, and to prevent all inquiries, he 
 paid a visit to the north of England, and, being one 
 day in search of plunder, he robbed a Dutch colonel of 
 his horse, arms, and fine laced coat. Thus equipped, 
 he committed several other robberies. At length, how- 
 ever, he laid aside the colonel's habit, only using his 
 horse, which soon became dexterous at his new em- 
 ployment. But one day meeting a gentleman near 
 Epsom, the latter resisted the captain's demands, and 
 discharged his pistol at Dudley. In the combat, how- 
 ever, he was victorious, wounded the gentleman in the 
 leg, and, having stripped him of his money, conveyed 
 him to the next village, that he might receive medical 
 assistance, and then rode off in search of new adven- 
 tures. The captain and his men were very successful 
 in this quarter. No stage, nor coach, nor passenger, 
 of which they had intelligence, could escape their de- 
 predations, and scarcely a day passed without the com- 
 mission of some notorious robbery. 
 
 Captain Dudley and his men went on in a continued 
 course of good fortune, acquiring much wealth, but 
 amassing little, as their extravagance was equal to 
 their gains. On one ill-fated day, however, having 
 attacked and robbed the Southampton coach, they 
 were keenly pursued, and several of them taken, but 
 Dudley escaped. Deprived of the chief part of his 
 own forces, he now attached himself to some house- 
 breakers, and with them continued to commit many 
 
 4 
 
SO LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBER*. 
 
 robberies; in particular, with three others, he entered 
 the house of an old woman in Spitalfields, gagged her, 
 bound her to a chair, and rifled the house of a consi- 
 derable sum of money, which the good woman had 
 been long scraping together. Hearing the money clink 
 that was going to be taken from her, she struggled in 
 her chair, fell down upon her face, and was stifled to 
 death, while the captain and his companions went ofl 
 with impunity. But when the old woman came to be 
 interred, a grandson of hers, who had been one of the 
 robbers, when about to be fitted with a pair of mourn- 
 ing gloves, changed countenance, was strongly agi- 
 tated, and began to tremble. He was suspected, 
 charged with the murder, confessed the crime, and 
 informing upon the rest, two of them were taken, tried, 
 and condemned, and the three hanged in chains. 
 
 Yet, though Dudley's name was published as acces- 
 sory to the murder, he long escaped detection. At 
 length, however, he was apprehended, and charged 
 with several robberies, of which he, by dexterous ma- 
 nagement, evaded the deserved punishment. He was 
 also called to stand trial for the murder of the old wo- 
 man ; but the principal eviderfce, upon whose testimony 
 the other three were chiefly condemned, being absent, 
 he escaped suffering for that crime. The dexterous 
 manner in which he managed that trial, the witnesses 
 whom he had suborned, and the manner in which he 
 maintained his innocence before the jury, were often 
 the cause of his boast and amusement. 
 
 The profligate Dudley was no sooner relieved from 
 prison than he hastened to join his old companions it! 
 vice. Exulting to see their captain again at their 
 head, they redoubled their activity, and committed all 
 mariner of depredations. Among other adventures, 
 they robbed a nobleman on Hounslow heath of fifteen 
 hundred pounds, after a severe engagement with his 
 servants, three of whom were wounded, and two had 
 their horses shot under them. They next directed 
 their course along the west country road, and having 
 robbed a parson, enjoined him, under the most terrific 
 
CAPTAIN DUDLEY. ' 81 
 
 threats, to preach a sermon in praise of thieving. He 
 was forced to comply, and the sermon being ended, 
 they returned his money, and gave him four shillings 
 to drink their health and success. 
 
 After this adventure, they left off infesting the high- 
 ways, and rode for London. Arrived in the capital, 
 the captain's brother employed his dexterity about 
 town in several adventures, which go far to show how 
 well the brother profited by the example and instruc- 
 tions of the captain. He first dressed himself as a 
 countryman, with a pair of dirty boots on, and a whip 
 in his hand, and went to Bartholomew Fair, where he 
 wandered all the forenoon without meeting any prey. 
 But as he was returning, he accosted a plain country- 
 man, saying, " Have a care, honest friend, of your 
 money, for we are going into a cursed place, full of 
 thieves, rogues, and pickpockets. I am almost ruined 
 by them, and I am glad that they have not pulled the 
 teeth out of my head. Let one take never so good care, 
 they will be sure of his money; the devil certainly 
 helps them." 
 
 The face of the countryman glowed with courage as 
 he replied, " I defy all the devils to rob me of any thing 
 I value. I have a round piece which I'll secure;" 
 and thrusting it into his mouthy he rushed confidently 
 into the fair. Will was only desirous to ascertain the 
 fact that he had money about him; therefore, giving 
 his instructions with a few sixpences and groats to a 
 hopeful boy, he immediately ran after the countryman, 
 while Will followed at a distance. The boy coming 
 up with the countryman, fell down before him, scatter- 
 ing the money all around; and starting up, he raised 
 the most hideous noise, crying that he was undone, and 
 that he must run away from his apprenticeship, that his 
 master was a furious man, and that he would certainlv 
 be killed. The countryman and others flocked around, 
 and endeavored to assist the boy in gathering up his 
 lost money. Then one of them said, " Have you found 
 all]" "Yes," all the silver, but that is of no avail; 
 there is a broad piece of gold which I was carrying to 
 
82 LIVES Of HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBEKS. 
 
 my master for a token sent from the country, and foi 
 the loss of it I shall be killed. Alas ! I am undone ! 
 what will become of me?" Will now advanced among 
 the crowd, and was equally concerned for the unhappy 
 boy ; and, seeing the countryman standing by, he 
 gravely observed that he had seen him put a piece of 
 gold into his mouth. The mob instantly seized him, 
 and while one opened his mouth by force, another ex- 
 tracted the broad piece of gold ; and when he attempted 
 to speak in his own defence, he was kicked, pinched, 
 and so tossed about, that he was glad to escape with 
 his life. Meanwhile, the boy slipped away among the 
 crowd, and at an appointed place met Will to sur?ender 
 to him his booty. 
 
 Having changed his clothes, Will went into the mar- 
 ket, and mingling with the crowd, learned that the 
 countryman was gone to an inn, where he had sent for 
 his master, a knight of a large estate, and somo other 
 respectable persons, to attest his character. Wii. knew 
 this person well, and hastened to the Exchange, m full 
 hopes of meeting him. Having reconnoitred thf gen- 
 tleman, and followed him until he perceived an oppor- 
 tunity, he robbed him of every guinea he had, except 
 one, which he considerately left him to pay for his 
 dinner. The knight, repairing to the inn, laughed 
 heartily when the poor countryman informed him that 
 he had been robbed, while he told him that he also had, 
 in like manner, been just fleeced upon the Exchange. 
 The countryman laughed in his turn, and said, " Sir, 
 let us make our escape from this roguish place;" add- 
 ing, with a shrug of the shoulders, "Sir, they'll ste» 
 our small guts to make fiddle-strings of them." 
 
 The gentleman, having recruited his purse, went ou 
 the next day to the Exchange. Will paid him the 
 same compliment the second day. The knight was 
 surprised how it was possible for any man to rob him 
 when he was so forewarned, and so upon his guard; 
 but, looking hastily about, his eye fixed upon Will, 
 whom he suspected to be the delinquent. He went up 
 to him, and, taking him by the button, informed him. 
 
CAPTAIN DUDLEY. 83 
 
 that be strongly suspected that he was the person who 
 had robbed him ; but, as he was a gentleman of a large 
 fortune, he did not regard the money, and would freely 
 pardon him, and give him all the money, upon condi- 
 tion that he would inform him by what means he had 
 done so. "This," said he, "1 promise upon my ho- 
 nor." " Your word of honor," said Will, " is suffi- 
 cient ; I know the greatness of your fortune ; I am the 
 man. I will wait on your worship at the tavern, and 
 there show you some of my art more freely than I 
 would do to my fellow-rogues." In their way to the 
 inn, the gentleman informed Will, that as he wished to 
 make a frolic of the matter, he would send for some 
 other gentlemen to be present, assuring him, at the 
 same time, that he should sustain no damage from any 
 discovery that he might make to them. " I know 
 you're a gentleman," said Will, "and men of honor 
 scorn to keep base company. Call as many as you 
 please ; I '11 take their word, and I know that I am 
 safe." 
 
 When the gentlemen arrived, Will told them many 
 things which greatly astonished and pleased them; 
 and when he pulled out the piece of gold, and informed 
 them how he had used Roger, the gentleman's tenant, 
 he was immediately sent for to increase the amuse- 
 ment. "What would you say," cried the knight, as 
 he entered, "if you saw your gold again?" "Oh!" 
 said he, "I wish I could; but if my mouth can't keep 
 it, where shall I put it 7 Shud ! I 'd rather see the 
 rogue ; I 'd make a jelly of his bones !" " There he is," 
 said the knight, "and there 's your broad piece." At> 
 Roger began to heave and to bull^ r , his master com- 
 manded him to take his piece of gold, and sit down by 
 him : upon which, the pacified Roger, seeing how 
 things went, drank to his new acquaintance. 
 
 One of the gentlemen pulling out a curious watch, 
 said, he wondered how it was possible to take a watch 
 out of a fob ; that it certainly must be from carelessness 
 on the part of the owner. "No," said Will, "if the 
 gentleman will take a turn in Moorfields, I '11 wager a 
 
84 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBlJERS. 
 
 guinea I '11 have the watch before he return, let him 
 take what care he pleases, and I shan't stir out of the 
 room." "Done," cried the gentleman; and every 
 gentleman in the room laid down his guinea, while 
 Roger staked his broad piece. The gentleman went 
 out, and was careful that he would not suffer man, 
 woman, nor child to come near him. When the time 
 approached that he should return, a boy came pretty 
 near him, but, to avoid suspicion, ran past him, and at 
 the same time looking on his back, informed the gen- 
 tleman that it swarmed with vermin. The gentleman 
 observing them, and loathing the sight, said, "Good 
 boy, take them off, and I '11 give you a shilling." The 
 boy did so, at the same time stealing his watch ; and, 
 having received his shilling, ran off. The gentleman 
 returned to the tavern, wondering all the way how he 
 could possibly come by such vermin, and taking the 
 greatest care that no person should approach him. 
 
 Upon his return to the tavern, Will asked him what 
 o'clock it was. He attempted to pull out his watch, 
 but, to his utter astonishment and confusion, it was 
 gone. Upon this, Will produced it, and asked the 
 gentleman if that were his. The gentleman was 
 struck dumb, casting up his hands and eyes, and, full 
 of amazement, addressed Will, saying, " You must 
 have had the assistance of the devil." " Of a boy," 
 said Will. "Did not a boy pick you clean?" "There's 
 the devil," said the gentleman ; " and he threw them 
 on, too, I suppose." "Ay, through a quill," said the 
 other. 
 
 All present were astonished at the ingenuity of the 
 trick, but particularly plain Roger, who could not, at 
 times, restrain his laughter. " Alas !" said Will, " this 
 trick is not worth talking about : it is only one of those 
 we commit to our boys. There is a nobleman just 
 passing the window, with a very rich coat upon his 
 back ; I '11 wager, as before, to steal it from him, before 
 all his followers, and bring it here on my own back." 
 The gentlemen all staked their guineas, and were se- 
 conded by Roger. " Come, now," said Will, "this 
 
C ATTAIN DUDLEY. 85 
 
 matter must not be entrusted to a boy; yon will givo 
 me leave to go myself, nor must you restrict me to any 
 particular time to return." So out he ran, and followed 
 the nobleman from street to street, until he saw him 
 enter a tavern. 
 
 The nobleman was conducted up-stairs. Will bust- 
 ling in after him, hastened to the bar-keeper, and 
 desired him to lend him an apron, as his master would 
 be served only by his own footman. " He is a very 
 good customer, and expects the very best wine : I must 
 go to the cellar and taste it for him." The apron 
 being given, he went to the cellar, and returned with 
 some of the best of each wine for his pretended master. 
 He ran so quick up and down stairs, and was so alert 
 at his work, that none of the other servants could equal 
 him. Meanwhile, the company up-stairs taking him 
 for the servant of the house, were highly satisfied with 
 his attendance. Will was also careful to give full 
 cups to the servant who should have served in his 
 place, with some money, which the other was very 
 glad to receive for doing nothing. He seldom also 
 went into the room without passing some merry jest to 
 amuse the company. They were so highly pleased 
 with him, that they said one to another, "This is a 
 merry, witty fellow ; such a man as he is fit to make a 
 house; he deserves double wages." When Will saw 
 his plan ripe for execution, he came into the room with 
 some wine, and by the aid of his knife, made a slit in 
 my lord's coat. Returning with a bottle in one hand, 
 and his other hand full of glasses, before he approached 
 his lordship he started and stared, saying, " What fel- 
 lows are those who have made that coat?" with other 
 imprecations against the tailor. Then some of the 
 company rising up, saw the rent in my lord's coat, and 
 cried, " My lord, the tailor has cheated you." Will, 
 drawing near, said, "Such things may happen; but 
 give me the coat, and I '11 carry it privately under my 
 master's cloak to an acquaintance of mine, who will 
 presently make it as good as if it had not been torn." 
 Borrowing a great coat of a eentleman present, the 
 
 H 
 
LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBEKS. 
 
 nobleman gave Will his coat to carry to the tailor, 
 who, coming down stairs, informed the landlord of the 
 disaster, received his cloak, and, patting the rent coat 
 below it, seized -a good beaver hat off one of the cloak- 
 pins, and hastened from the tavern. Arriving at the 
 inn where the gentlemen were anxiously waiting his 
 return, he went into another room, dressed himself, 
 and entered with the cloak and beaver on. " What !" 
 said one of them, " instead of a coat, you come with a 
 cloak, and great need for it; for," he added, "there's 
 a deal of knavery under it." Will then opened the 
 cloak, and showed them the coat, saying, that he had 
 received the cloak and beaver into the bargain j and 
 gave an account of the whole adventure. 
 
 Meanwhile, my lord and his company had waited 
 long in expectation of the servant, whom they supposed 
 to have been one of the waiters of the house. The 
 landlord also wondering that they were so long in call- 
 ing for more wine, one of the servants was sent up-stairs 
 to force trade. He entered the room, saying, "Call 
 here, call here, gentlemen ?" " Yes," said one of 
 them, " where is your fellow- servant who waited upon 
 us?" "My fellow-servant!" exclaimed the other; 
 " he said he was my lord's servant, and that his mas- 
 ter would be served by none but himself, and I should 
 have good vails, nevertheless." My lord replied, " How 
 can that be? I have only one gentleman of my own 
 retinue ; the rest are with my lady. He that served 
 us came in with an apron, and in the character of one 
 of the servants of the house: — call up the landlord!" 
 Boniface instantly waited upon them, when one of the 
 gentlemen asked him, if he kept sharpers in his house, 
 to affront gentlemen and to rob them. "Nay," replied 
 the vintner, who was a choleric man, " do you bring 
 sharpers along with you, to affront me and rob my 
 house? I am sure I have lost a new cloak and bea- 
 ver; and, for aught I know, though you look like gen- 
 tlemen, you may be sharpers yourselves; and I expect 
 to be paid by you for my losses, as well as for the 
 reckoning." One of them instantly drew upon him. 
 
CAPTAIN DUDLEY. 87 
 
 enraged at his insolent language; bnt the landlord ran 
 down stairs in affright, and alarmed the whole house, 
 entreating them not to suffer such rogues to escape. 
 In the mean time he seized a sword, the servants armed 
 themselves with spits, pokers, and such other weapons 
 as the house afforded. A great uproar was soon rais- 
 ed ; and the nobleman coming first out to penetrate 
 through the crowd, made a thrust at the landlord, but 
 was beaten back by a fire-shovel in the hand of one of 
 the waiters, and narrowly escaped being run through 
 with a long spit in the hands of a cook maid. His 
 lordship, seeing the door so completely guarded, shut 
 himself up in the room, and began to consult with the 
 rest of the company what was best to be done. 
 
 Fortunately, however, the gentleman who was in the 
 other tavern with Will, conjecturing that a quarrel 
 might ensue between the nobleman and the vintner, 
 who had lost his cloak and beaver, sent his own land- 
 lord to inform him, that the rogue was caught, and in 
 safe custody. 
 
 He was admitted up-stairs, waited on his lordship, 
 and communicated to him the whole affair. A cessa- 
 tion of arms took place. They drank to the health of 
 the landlord, assuring him, that in future they would 
 be friendly to his house; but; in the mean time, they 
 attended their peacemaker to the tavern, where Will 
 was exhibiting his dexterity. The vintner went along 
 with them, and, after common compliments, Will re- 
 stored the coat, the cloak, and the beaver, and continued 
 to amuse them during the remainder of the evening 
 with the relation of his adventures. 
 
 But to return, at length, to the captain his brother. 
 He had. along with his companions, committed so many 
 robberies upon the highway, that a proclamation was 
 issued against them, offering a reward to those who 
 should bring them, either dead or alive. This occa- 
 sioned their detection in the following manner : — having 
 committed a robbery, and being closely pursued to 
 Westminster ferry, the wherryman refused to carry 
 any more that night. Two of them then rode off, and 
 
SS LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 the other four gave their horses to a waterman to lead 
 to the next inn. The horses foaming with sweat, the 
 waterman began to suspect that they were robbers who 
 had been keenly pursued, and communicated his sus- 
 picions to the constable, who secured the horses, and 
 went in search of the men. 
 
 He was not long in seizing one of them, who con- 
 fessed ; and the constable, hastening to the inn, se- 
 cured the rest, and, having placed a strong guard 
 upon them, rode to Lambeth, and making sure of the 
 other two, led them before a justice of the peace, who 
 committed them to Newgate. 
 
 At the next sessions, captain Dudley, his brother, and 
 three other accomplices, were tried, and condemned to 
 suffer death. 
 
 After sentence, captain Dudley was brought to JVew- 
 gate, where he conducted himself agreeably to his sad 
 situation. He was conveyed from Newgate with six 
 other prisoners. He appeared pretty cheerful, but his 
 brother lay all the time sick in the cart. The ceremo- 
 nies of religion being performed, they were launched 
 into another world on the twenty-second of February, 
 1681 j to answer for the numerous crimes of their guilty 
 lives. 
 
 The bodies of the captain and his brother, having 
 been cut down, were put into separate coffins, to be 
 conveyed to their disconsolate father, who at the sight 
 was so overwhelmed, that he sank upon the dead bo- 
 dies, and never spoke more, and was buried at the same 
 time and in the same grave with his two sons. 
 
89 
 
 WILLIAM NEVISON. 
 
 The advancement of the arts and sciences is noi 
 more rapid than the progress of folly and vice. In the 
 following memoir it will be demonstrated, that the best 
 education may be perverted by vicious dispositions 
 
 William Nevison was born at Pomfret, in Yorkshm 
 about the year 1639, and his parents, being in goo 
 circumstances, conferred upon him a decent education 
 He remained at school until he was about thirteen 
 years of age. During that period, his expanding talents 
 promised a luxuriant harvest; but the general bent oi 
 his future character, and the ruling motive of all his 
 actions, were exhibited at that period. He conimn 
 his depredations by stealing a silver spoon from his 
 own father. The too indulgent parent, instead of chas- 
 tising him for the crime, transferred the unpleasant 
 work to the schoolmaster. The father who resigns 
 authority over his own children may expect either to 
 lose them altogether, or to have his heart grieved and 
 his family dishonored by their conduct. The school- 
 master having punished young Nevison for the theft, 
 he spent a sleepless night in meditating revenge. He 
 knew that the pedagogue had a favorite horse, which 
 grazed in an adjacent paddock. William rose early in 
 the morning, moved quietly into his father's closet, 
 stole his keys, and supplied himself with cash to the 
 amount of ten pounds ; then, taking a saddle and bri- 
 dle from his father's stable, he hastened to the paddock 
 in which the schoolmaster's horse was accustomed to 
 feed : and, having saddled and bridled the animal, with 
 all haste rode towards London. About a mile or two 
 from the capital, he cut the throat of the poor horse, for 
 fear of detection. Arrived in London, he changed his 
 name and clothes, and then hired himself to a brewer. 
 
90 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 Although circumstances compelled him to be for a^ 
 while industrious, in order to obtain the necessaries of 
 life, his mind was always upon the stretch to invent 
 some more expeditious mode of acquiring money than 
 the slow return of annual pay; accordingly he often, 
 ineffectually, attempted to rob his master. One even- 
 ing, however, the clerk happening to use his bottle too 
 freely, Nevison followed him into the counting-house 
 and, while he was enjoying a recruiting nap, stole the 
 keys of the desks, and relieved them of their burden, 
 to the amount of about two hundred pounds. Without 
 waiting to discover whether the clerk or the servant 
 would be blamed for the cash, he sailed for Holland. 
 
 But change of climate had no effect in 'hanging his 
 nature. Through his instigation, the daughter of a 
 respectable citizen robbed her father of a large sum of 
 money, and a quantity of jewels, and eloped with the 
 Englishman. They were pursued, taken, and com- 
 mitted to prison. Thus detected, Nevison would cer- 
 tainly have finished a short but villanous career in a 
 foreign land, had he not fortunately effected his escape. 
 
 With no small difficulty he arrived in Flanders, and 
 enlisted into a regiment of English volunteers, under 
 the command of the duke of York. In that station he 
 behaved with considerable reputation, and even ac- 
 quired some money: but his restless temper and dispo- 
 sition to acquire riches, by whatever means, did not 
 permit him to remain in a situation of industry or so- 
 briety. He deserted, went over to England, with his 
 money purchased a horse, together with all other ne- 
 cessaries, and commenced his depredations in a syste- 
 matic form. His success was uncommon, and he every 
 day found means to replenish his coffers, and to nourish 
 his extravagance. Nor would he unite his fortune 
 with any one, who, from selfish motives, might feel 
 disposed to participate in his lucrative employment. 
 
 One day Nevison, who went otherwise by the name 
 of Johnson, travelling on the road, and scouring about 
 in search of a prize, met two countrymen, who, coming 
 .ip towards him, informed him that it was very danger- 
 
WILLIAM NEVISON. 91 
 
 ons travelling forward, for that the way was set, and 
 they had been robbed by three highwaymen, about 
 half a mile off; and if he had any charge of money 
 about him. it was his safest course to turn back. Ne- 
 vison asking them what they had lost, they told him 
 forty pounds: upon which he replied, "Turn back 
 with me and show me the way they took, and my life 
 to a farthing, I '11 make them return you your money 
 again." They rode along with him till they came in 
 sight of the highwaymen, when Nevison, ordering the 
 countrymen to stay behind him at some distance, rode 
 up, and spoke to the foremost of them, saying, "Sir, 
 by your garb and the color of your horse, you should 
 be one of those I looked after ; and if so, my business 
 is to tell you, that you borrowed of two friends of mine 
 forty pounds, which they desire me to demand of you, 
 and which, before we part, you must restore." " How !" 
 cried the highwayman, " forty pounds ! What! is the 
 fellow mad 7" "So mad," replied Nevison, "that 
 yonr life shall answer me, if you do not give me better 
 satisfaction." Upon which he drew his pistol and 
 suddenly clapped it to the other's breast, who finding 
 that Nevison had also his rein, and that he could not 
 get his sword or pistols, yielded, telling him his life was 
 at his mercy. "No," said Nevison, "it is not that I 
 seek, but the money you robbed these two men of who 
 are riding up to me, which you must refund." 
 
 The thief was forced to consent, and readily to deli- 
 ver such part as he had, saying his companions were 
 in possession of the rest; so that Nevison, having made 
 him dismount, and taking away his pistols, which he 
 gave to the countrymen, ordered them to secure him, 
 and hold his own, while he took the thief's horse, and 
 pursued the other two, whom he soon overtook ; for 
 they, thinking him their companion, stopped as soon 
 as they saw him; so that he came up to them in the 
 midst of a common. " How now, Jack," said one of 
 them, "what made you engage with yon fellow?" 
 "No, gentlemen," replied Nevison, "you are mistaken 
 in your man : Thomas — for by the token of your noise 
 
92 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 and arms, I perceive you are Thomas — he hath sent me 
 to you for the ransom of his life, amounting to no less 
 than the prize of the day, which if you presently sur- 
 render, you may go about your business; if not, I must 
 have a little dispute with you at sword and pistol !" 
 At which one of them fned at him, but missing his aim, 
 received Nevison's bullet in his right shoulder; and 
 being thereby disabled, Nevison was about to discharge 
 at the other, when he called for quarter, and came to a 
 parley, which, in short, was made up, with Nevison s 
 promise to send their friend, and their delivering him 
 ail the ready money they had, amounting to a hundred 
 and fifty pounds. Having obtained his booty, he rode 
 back to the two countrymen, and released their prison- 
 er, giving them their whole forty pounds, with a cau- 
 tion for the future to look better after it, and not, like 
 cowards, as they were, to surrender the same on such 
 easy terms again. 
 
 In all his exploits, Nevison was tender of the fair 
 sex, and bountiful to the poor. He was also a true 
 loyalist, and never levied any contributions upon the 
 royalists. One day, fortunately encountering a rich 
 usurer, he stopped his coach, and demanded that he 
 would deliver the money which he had extorted from 
 poor widows and orphans. The pistol presented to his 
 breast, and the reproaches of the highwayman, filled 
 his guilty mind with inexpressible terror, and he began 
 to expostulate for his life. " That shall be granted," 
 replied Nevison, " upon condition of your surrendering 
 your gold." The other reluctantly drew out sixty 
 broad pieces of gold ; but this sum being inadequate to 
 the necessities of Nevison, he constrained the usurer to 
 mount upon the postilion's horse, and allowed the 
 coach with the three ladies in it to proceed. The poor 
 Jew, now thinking that the hour was verily nigh at 
 hand when he would be bereft of life and separated 
 from his treasures, experienced all the violent emotions 
 of terror, chagrin and despair. Nevison compelled him 
 to draw a note upon sight for five hundred pounds 
 upon a scrivener in London. He then permitted him 
 
WILLIAM NEVISON. 93 
 
 to ride after his friends to acquaint them with his mis- 
 fot tunes, while he himself rode all night, that he might 
 have the money drawn before advice could be for- 
 warded to stop the payment. 
 
 After several adventures of a similar nature, Nevison 
 one day robbed a rich grazier of 450/. and then pro- 
 posed to himself to retire with the spoil. Accordingly, 
 he returned home, and, like the prodigal son, was joy- 
 fully received by his father, who, not having heard of 
 him during seven or eight years, supposed that he had 
 been dead. He remained with his father until the day 
 of the old man's death, living as soberly and honestly 
 as if no act of violence had ever sullied his reputation. 
 Upon the death of his father, however, he returned to 
 his former courses, and in a short time, his name was 
 a terror to every traveller upon the road. To such an 
 extent did he carry his plans, that the carriers and 
 drovers who frequented that road willingly agreed to 
 leave certain sums at such places as he appointed, to 
 prevent their being stripped of their all. 
 
 Continuing his wicked course, he was at last appre- 
 hended, thrown into Leicester gaol, put in irons, and 
 strictly guarded ; but, in spite of all the precautions 
 of the county, he effected his escape. One day, two 
 or three of his trusty friends visited him, one of whom, 
 being a physician, gave out that he was infected with 
 the plague, and that, unless he was removed to a 
 larger room, where he might enjoy free air, he should 
 not only himself perish, but communicate the infection 
 to all the inhabitants of the gaol. He was instantly 
 removed, and the' gaoler's wife would not allow her 
 husband to go farther then the door of his room, for 
 fear of the infection, which afforded Nevison and his 
 friends time to perfect their scheme. The physician 
 came twice or thrice every day to see him, and continued 
 to declare his case hopeless. At last a painter was 
 brought in, who painted all his body with spots, similar 
 to those that appear upon a person infected with the 
 pestilence. In a few days after, he received a sleeping 
 draught, and was declared to be dead. The inquest 
 
94 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 who sat upon his body were afraid to approach in 
 order to make a minute inspection, and thus a verdict 
 was returned that he had died of the plague. His 
 triends now demanded his body, and he was carried 
 out of prison in a coffin. 
 
 This insertion into a coffin only rendered him more 
 callous and daring in vice. He, with redoubled vigor, 
 renewed his depredations, and, meeting his carriers 
 and drovers, informed them, that it was necessary to 
 increase their rents, in order to refund his expenses 
 while in gaol and his loss of time. It was at first 
 supposed, that it was his ghost, who carried on the 
 same pranks that he had done in his lifetime. The 
 truth of this, however, came to be suspected, and the 
 gaoler offered a reward of 201. to any person who 
 would restore him to his former domicile. 
 
 Resolved to visit the capital, he upon his journey 
 met a company of canting beggars, pilgrims, and idle 
 vagabonds. Continuing in their company for some 
 time, and observing the merry life that they pur- 
 sued, he took an opportunity to propose himself as a 
 candidate for admission into their honorable frater- 
 nity. Their leader applauded his resolution, and 
 addressed him in these words: — "Do not we come 
 into the world arrant beggars, without a rag upon 
 us? And do we not all go out of the world like 
 beggars, saving only an old sheet over us? Shall we, 
 then, be ashamed to walk up and down the world 
 like beggars, with old blankets pinned about us?* No! 
 no ! that would be a shame to us, indeed. Have we 
 not the whole kingdom to walk in at our pleasure 1 
 Are we afraid of the approach of quarter-day ? Do we 
 walk in fear of sheriffs, bailiffs, and catchpoles? Who 
 ever knew an arrant beggar arrested for debt? Is not 
 our meat dressed in every man's kitchen ? Does not 
 every man's cellar afford us beer? And the best men's 
 purses keep a penny for us to spend?" Having, by 
 these words, as he thought, fully fixed him in love 
 with begging, he then acquainted the company with 
 NWison's desire, in consequence of which they were all 
 
WILLIAM NEVISON. 95 
 
 very joyful, being as glad to add one to their society, as 
 a Mussulman to obtain a proselyte. The first question 
 they asked him was, if he had any loure in his bung. 
 Nevison stared on them, not knowing what they 
 meant ; till at last, one informed him it was money in 
 his purse. He told them he had but eighteen pence, 
 which he gave them freely. This, by a general vote, 
 was condemned to be spent in a booze for his initiation. 
 They then commanded him to kneel down, which 
 being done, one of the chief of them took a gage of 
 booze, which is a quart of drink, and poured the same 
 on his head, saying, " I do, by virtue of this sovereign 
 liquor, install thee in the Roage, and make thee a free 
 denizen of our ragged regiment. So that henceforth it 
 shall be lawful for thee to cant, only observing these 
 rules : — First, that thou art not to wander up and 
 down all countries, but to keep to that quarter that is 
 allotted thee ; and, secondly, thou art to give way to 
 any of us that have borne all the offices of the wallet 
 before; and, upon holding up a finger, to avoid any 
 town or country village, where thou seest we are 
 foraging for victuals for our army that march along 
 with us. Observing these two rules, we take thee into 
 our protection, and adopt thee a brother of our nume- 
 rous society." 
 
 The leader having ended his oration, Nevison rose 
 up, and was congratulated by all the company's hang- 
 ing about him, like so many dogj about a bear, and 
 making such a hideous noise, that the chief, command- 
 ing silence, addressed him as follows: — "Now that 
 thou art entered into our fraternity, thou must not 
 scruple to act any villanies, whether it be to cut a 
 purse, steal a cloak-bag, or portmanteau, convey all 
 manner of things, whether a chicken, suckinsr-pig, 
 duck, goose, or hen, or to steal a shirt from the hedge ; 
 for he that will be a quier cove, (a professed rogue.) 
 must observe these rules. And because thou art but 
 a novice in begging, and understandest not the myste- 
 ries of the canting language, thou shalt have a wife to 
 be thy companion, by whom thou mayest receive in- 
 
96 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 structions." And thereupon, he singled him out a gin 
 of about seventeen years of age, which tickled his 
 fancy very much : but he must presently be married 
 to her after the fashion of their pafrico, who, amongst 
 beggars, is their priest. Whereupon the ceremony was 
 performed after this manner : — 
 
 They took a hen, and, having cut off the head of it, 
 laid the dead body on the ground, placing Nevison on 
 the one side, and his intended on the other ; this being 
 done, the priest, standing by, with a loud voice bade 
 them live together till death did them part ; then 
 shaking hands, and kissing each other, the ceremony 
 of the wedding was over, and the whole group ap- 
 peared intoxicated with joy. Night approaching, and 
 all their money being spent, they betook themselves to 
 a barn not far off, where they broached a hogshead, 
 and went to sleep. 
 
 Nevison, having met with this odd piece of diversion 
 in his journey, slipped out of the barn when all were 
 asleep, took a horse, and posted directly away. But, 
 coming to London, he found there was too much noise 
 about him to permit him to tarry there : he therefore 
 returned into the country, and fell to his old pranks 
 again. Several who had been formerly robbed by him, 
 happening to meet him, imagined that his ghost 
 walked abroad, having heard the report of his pesti- 
 lential death in Leicester gaol. In short, his crimes 
 became so notorious, that a reward was offered to any 
 that would apprehend him : this made many waylay 
 him, especially two brothers, named Fletcher, one of 
 whom Nevison shot dead ; but, going into a little vil- 
 lage about thirteen miles from York, he was taken by 
 captain Hardcastle, and sent to York gaol, where, on 
 the 15th March 1684, he was tried, condemned, and 
 executed, aged forty-five. 
 
The Golden Farmer. P. 99. 
 
99 
 
 THE GOLDEN FARMER. 
 
 This man's real name was William Davis, a natbo 
 of North Wales, but he obtained the title of Golden 
 Farmer from his custom of paying any considerable 
 sum in gold. He was born in the year 1626. At an 
 early period of life he removed to Sudbury, in Glouces- 
 tershire, where he took a farm, married the daughter 
 of a wealthy innkeeper, by whom he had eighteen 
 children, and followed that industrious employment 
 merely to disguise the real character of a robber, which 
 he sustained without suspicion for the space of forty- 
 two years. He usually robbed alone. One day, meet- 
 ing some stage-coaches, he stopped one of them, full 
 of ladies, all of whom complied with his demands, ex- 
 cept a Quaker, who vowed she had no money, nor any 
 thing valuable about her: upon which, feari::g lest he 
 should lose the booty of the other coaches, he told her 
 he would go and see what they could afford him, and 
 return to her again. Having rifled the other three 
 coaches, he was as good as his word; and the Quaker, 
 persisting in her former statement, enraged the Farmer 
 to such a degree, that, seizing her by the shoulder, and 
 employing language which it would be hardly proper 
 here to set down, he so scared the poor Quaker, as to 
 cause her to produce a purse of guineas, a gold watch, 
 and a diamond ring. Whereupon, they parted as good 
 friends as when they were first intpoduced to each 
 other. 
 
 Upon another occasion, our desperado met the duch- 
 ess of Albemarle in her coach, as she was riding over 
 Salisbury Plain; but he encountered greater difficulty 
 in this case than he had contemplated. Before lie 
 could assault the lady he was compelled to engage a 
 I 
 
100 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND KOBBEKS. 
 
 
 postilion, the coachman, and two footmen ; but, bavin 
 disabled them all by discharging several pistols, he 
 approached his prey, whom he found more refractory 
 than the female Quaker. Perceiving another person 
 of quality's coach approaching, with a retinue of ser- 
 vants, he was fain to content himself by pulling three 
 diamond rings from her fingers by force, snatching a 
 rich gold watch from her side, and venting a portion 
 of abuse upon her obstinate ladyship. 
 
 ft was not very long after this exploit, that our ad- 
 venturer met with Sir Thomas Day, a justice of the 
 peace, living at Bristol. They fell into discourse, and, 
 riding along, the Golden Farmer informed his new 
 acquaintance, that a little while before, he had nar- 
 rowly escaped being robbed by a couple of highway- 
 men, but, luckily, his horse having better heels than 
 theirs, he had got clear of them. " Truly," said Sir 
 Thomas, " that had been very hard : but, nevertheless, 
 as you would have been robbed between sun and sun, 
 the county, upon suing it, would have been obliged to 
 make your loss good." Thus, chatting together, and 
 coming to a convenient place, the Golden Farmer shot 
 Sir Thomas's man's horse under him, and, compelling 
 him to retire to a distance, presented a pistol to the 
 knight's heart, and demanded his money. " I thought, 
 sir," said Sir Thomas, " that you had been an honest 
 man." " Your worship is mistaken," cried the Far- 
 mer ; "and if you had had any skill in physiognomy, 
 you might have perceived that my countenance is the 
 very picture of necessity ; so deliver me presently, f;r 
 I 'm in haste." Sir Thomas, therefore, being con- 
 strained to give him the money he had about him, 
 which was about 601 in gold and silver, the oiher 
 humbly thanked his worship, and told him, that what 
 he had parted with was not lost, because he haa been 
 robbed between sun and sun, and could therefore come 
 upon the county. 
 
 One Mr. Hart, a young gentleman of Enfield, who, 
 it appears, possessed a good estate, but was not over- 
 burdened with brains, riding one day over Finchley 
 
THE GOLDEN FARMER. 101 
 
 Common, where the Golden Farmer had been for some 
 hours hunting for prey, was met by him, and saluted 
 with a smart slap with the Hat of his drawn hanger 
 upon his shoulders: "A plague on you!" said the 
 Farmer ; " how slow you are, to make a man wait upon 
 you all the morning : come, deliver what you have, 
 and go to the devil for orders !" The young gentle- 
 man, rather surprised at this novel greeting, began to 
 make several excuses, saying he had no money about 
 him: but his incredulous antagonist took the liberty 
 of searching him, and, finding about him above a 
 hundred guineas, he bestowed upon him two or three 
 farther slaps on the shoulders, telling him, at the same 
 time, not to give his mind to lying in future, when an 
 honest gentleman required a small gratuity from him. 
 Another time, this notorious robber having paid his 
 landlord about 80/. for rent, the latter, going home 
 with it, was accosted by his goodly tenant in disguise, 
 who, bidding him stand, said : — " Come, Mr. Gravity, 
 deliver what you have in a trice !" The old gentle- 
 man, fetching a deep sigh, to the hazard of displacing 
 several buttons from his waistcoat, told him, that he 
 had not above two shillings about him, and hoped, 
 therefore, he was more a gentleman than to take so small 
 a matter from a poor man. " I have no faith," replied 
 the Farmer; " for you seem, by your habit to be a man 
 of better circumstances than you pretend; therefore, 
 open your budget, or I shall fall foul of you." " Dear 
 sir," cried the landlord, " you can't be so barbarous to 
 an old man. What ! have you no religion, pity, or 
 compassion in you ? Have you no conscience ? Have 
 you no respect for your body or soul ?" " Don't talk 
 of age or barbarity to me," said the tenant, "for I 
 show neither pity nor compassion to any body. Talk 
 of conscience to me ! I have no more of that dull 
 commodity than you have ; therefore, deliver every 
 thing you have about you, before this pistol makes 
 you repent your obstinacy." The landlord being thus 
 threatened, delivered his money, without receiving a 
 receipt for it, although he had given one to the Farmer. 
 
102 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 An old grazier at Putney Heath was the next victin 
 to the avaricious Farmer. Having accosted him on the 
 road, he informed hirn that there were some suspicious 
 persons behind them, whom he suspected to be high- 
 waymen; and, if that should be the case, he begged 
 that he would conceal ten guineas for hun, which 
 would be safer with him, from the meanness of his 
 apparel. He accepted the charge, and said, that as ho 
 himself had fifty guineas bound in the lappet of his 
 shirt, he would deposit them along with his own. In 
 a short time, the Farmer said. — "It does not appear 
 that any person will run the risk of his neck by rob- 
 bing you to-day; it will, therefore, be as well that I do 
 so myself." Without any farther preamble, therefore, 
 he demanded of him, instead of delivering up his 
 purse, to cut off the lappet of his shirt; but, declining 
 to comply with his request, the Farmer put himself to 
 the trouble of lightening the fore-garment of the gra- 
 zier. 
 
 Squire Broughton, a gentleman of the Middle Tem- 
 ple, was the succeeding prey of the Golden Farmer. 
 Happening to meet at an inn upon the road, the Farmer 
 pretended to be on his way to the capital, concerning 
 an offence that a neighboring farmer had committed 
 against him, by allowing his cattle to break into his 
 grounds. Meanwhile, he requested that squire Brough- 
 ton would recommend him to an expert and faithful 
 agent to conduct his cause. Like every other lawyer, 
 Broughton was desirous to have him for a client, and 
 proceeded to explain the nature of his cause. Having 
 spent the night at the inn, they proceeded next morn- 
 ing on their journey, when the Farmer addressed the 
 counsellor, saying, " Pray, sir, what is meant by trover 
 and conversion in the law of England?" He replied, 
 that it signified, in our common law, an action which 
 one man has against another, who, having found any 
 of his goods, refuses to deliver them up on demand, 
 and perhaps converts them to his own use. 
 
 The Golden Farmer being now at a place conve- 
 nient for his purpose, " Very well, then, sir," said he, 
 
THE GOLDEN FARMER. 103 
 
 • should I find any money about you, and convert it 
 fo my use, it is only actionable, I find." "That is a 
 robbery," said the barrister, "which requires no less a 
 satisfaction than a man's life." " A robbery !" replied 
 the Golden Farmer; "why, then, I must commit one 
 in my time :" and presenting his pistol, he instantly 
 demanded his money or his life. Surprised at his 
 client's rough behavior, the lawyer began to remon- 
 strate in strong terms upon the impropriety of his 
 conduct, urging, that it was both contrary to law and 
 to conscience. His eloquent pleading, however, made 
 no impression upon the mind of the Farmer, who, 
 putting a pistol to his breast, compelled the lawyer to 
 deliver his money, amounting to the sum of 40/., some 
 large pieces of gold, and a gold watch. 
 
 One day, accosting a tinker upon the road, whom be 
 knew to have 11. or 8/. upon him, he said, " Well, 
 brother tinker, you seem to be very decent, for your 
 life is a continual pilgrimage, and, in humility, you go 
 almost barefooted, making necessity a virtue." " Ay, 
 master," replied the tinker, necessity compels when 
 the devil drives, and, had you no more than I, you 
 would do the same." " That might be," replied the 
 Farmer, "and 1 suppose you march all over England." 
 "Yes," said the tinker, "I go a great deal of ground, 
 but not so much as you ride." " Be this as it will, I 
 suppose that your conversation is unblamable, be- 
 cause you are continually mending." " I wish," re- 
 plied the tinker, " that as much could be said in com- 
 mendation of your character." The Farmer replied, 
 that he was not like him, who would rather steal than 
 beg:, in defiance of whips or imprisonment. Deter- 
 mined to have the last word of the Farmer, the tinker 
 rejoined, "I would have you to know, that I take a 
 great deal of pains for a livelihood." The Farmer, 
 equally loquacious, replied, " I know that you are such 
 an enemy to idleness, that, rather than want work, 
 you will make three holes in mending one" "That 
 may be. said the honest tinker, " but I begin to wish 
 that there were a greater distance between us, as I dr 
 
104 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 neither love your conversation nor appearance." " 1 
 a in equally ready to say the same of you ; for, though 
 you are entertained in every place, yet you are seldom 
 permitted to enter the door of any dwelling." The 
 tinker repeated his strong suspicions of the Farmer. 
 " Nor shall it be without cause !" exclaimed he ; 
 "therefore, open your wallet, and deliver the money 
 that is there." Here their dialogue being about to 
 close, the tinker entreated that he would not rob him, 
 as he was above a hundred miles from home : but the 
 Golden Farmer, being indifferent to all the consequences 
 of the loss of the other's property, seized both his wal- 
 let and his money, and left the poor tinker to renew 
 his journey and his toils. 
 
 This famous highwayman had only a few more acts 
 of violence to perform. His actions and character 
 being now universally known, many a hue-and-cry 
 was sent after him, and conspired to his overthrow. 
 He was seized and imprisoned, tried, and condemnod. 
 He spent his time in prison in the same merry way in 
 which his former life had been passed, and a violent 
 death terminated his wicked course on the 20th De- 
 cember 1689. 
 
 JONATHAN SIMPSON. 
 
 This man was the son of a respectable gentleman in 
 Launceston, in Cornwall, and put an apprentice to a 
 linen-draper. After serving his time with great appro- 
 bation, his father gave him 1500/. to commence busi- 
 ness for himself. 
 
 He had not been a year in business when he mar- 
 ried a merchant's daughter, and received with her 
 2000/. of portion. Such an accession to his wealth 
 enabled him to extend his business, and to conduct it 
 with ease. But money cannot procure happiness. 
 
JONATHAN SIMPSON. 105 
 
 The affections of the young lady had been gained by 
 a man of less fortune, and, to please her father, she had 
 given her hand where she conld not bestow her heart ; 
 and, though married to another, she continued in a 
 degree of familiarity with her former lover that excited 
 her husband's jealousy, the most violent of all the 
 passions. 
 
 In a short time, after having lived in a very unhappy 
 manner, Simpson took the opportunity to sell all off, 
 and, having shut, up shop, went away with what 
 money he could raise, determined no longer to remain 
 in Bristol. He was now possessed of about 5000/. but 
 his expenses were so extravagant, that this large sum 
 was soon exhausted. He then went to the highway, 
 committed a robbery, was apprehen led, and would 
 certainly have been hanged, had not some of his rich 
 relations procured a reprieve. The difficulty of ob- 
 taining it may be guessed from the fact, that it arrived 
 at Tyburn just when the rope was about his neck. 
 Such was his obduracy, that, when returning to New- 
 gate behind one of the sheriff's men, the latter asked 
 him what he thought of a reprieve when he was come 
 to the gallows. " No more than I thought of my 
 dying day." 
 
 When he came to the prison-door, the turnkey re- 
 fused to receive him, saying, that he was sent to be 
 executed, and that he was discharged of him, and 
 would not permit him to enter without a new warrant. 
 Upon which Simpson exclaimed, " What an unhappy 
 cast-off dog am I, that both Tyburn and Newgate 
 should in one day refuse to entertain me ! Well, I'll 
 mend my manners for the future, and try whether I 
 can't merit a reception at them both, next time I am 
 brought thither." 
 
 He immediately recommenced his operations, ar.d 
 one day robbed a gentleman of a purse full of coun- 
 ters, which he supposed were gold. He kept them in 
 his pockets, always anxiously looking out for his bene- 
 factor. About four months after, he met him upon 
 Bagshot heath, riding in a coach : dt Sir," said he, " I 
 
 5 
 
106 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 believe yon made a mistake the last time I had the 
 happiness of seeing yon, in giving these pieces. 1 have 
 b?.eii troubled ever since, lest yon should have wanted 
 them at cards, and am glad of this opportunity to re- 
 turn them ; only, for my care, I require you to come 
 this moment out of your coach, and give me your 
 breeches, that I may search them at leisure, and not 
 trust any more to your generosity, lest you should 
 mistake again." A pistol enforced his demand, and 
 Simpson found a gold watch, a gold snuff-box, and 
 ninety-eight guineas, with five jacobuses. 
 
 At another time, he robbed lord Delamere of three 
 hundred and fifty guineas. He was almost unequalled 
 in his depredations: in one day he robbed nineteen 
 different people, and took above 200/. ; and, in the space 
 of six weeks, committed forty robberies in the county 
 of Middlesex. He even ventured to attack the duke 
 of Berwick, and took from him articles to a very great 
 value. 
 
 But wickedness has a boundary over which it can- 
 not pass. Simpson attacked two captains of the 
 guards : a strong struggle ensued : his horse was shot 
 under him. and he was wounded in both arms and 
 one of his legs before he was taken. He was sent to 
 Newgate, and now found that he was not refused en- 
 trance : and he soon also discovered, that Tyburn was 
 equally ready to receive him. His execution took place 
 on the Sth September 16S6. 
 
107 
 
 WILLIAM CADY. 
 
 This gentleman was a native of Norfc'k county, and 
 the son of an eminent surgeon. After the preparatory 
 steps of education, William went to the University of 
 Cambridge, and was tutor to lord Townsheud. He 
 was during that time mado bachelor of arts, and con- 
 tinued to pursue his studies until deprived of his father 
 by death. 
 
 The loss of a prudent father to a young man, forms 
 a remarkable era in his life. If he is left with an 
 ample fortune, he has then the means of gratifying his 
 wishes, whether in the field of benevolence or in that 
 of dissipation : and though left with no fortune, yet he is 
 then at full liberty to follow his ruling inclination. 
 Upon the intelligence of his father's death, William 
 went to London and began to practise medicine. His 
 first patient was his own uncle, who, being dangerously 
 afFected with an imposthume, was cured by him in the 
 following manner: — 
 
 When he entered his uncle's bedchamber, his first 
 care was to examine the state of the old gentleman's 
 stomach : for this purpose he ranged abcut the room, 
 overturning every plate and dish, to discover what had 
 been given him to eat. He at last discovered an old 
 saddle, which he thought would answer for the intend- 
 ed experiment. Upon seeing this he cried out, " Uncle, 
 your case is very desperate !" — " Not so bad, I hope," 
 said the uncle, " as to make me past remedy." — " Hea- 
 ven knows that," cried Cady, "but a surfeit is a terri- 
 ■ble thing, and I perceive that you have got a violent 
 one." — "A surfeit!" said the old gentleman; "you 
 mistake, nephew; it is an imposthume that 1 am af- 
 fected with." — "The deuce it is!" replied Cady; 
 
108 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 <r why, I conld have sworn it had been a surfeit, for 1 
 perceive you have eaten a whole horse, and left us only 
 the saddle !" At this he held up the saddle ; and the 
 old gentleman fell into such a fit of laughter as instant- 
 ly broke his imposthume, so that he became quite well 
 in less than a fortnight. 
 
 This is not the only instance of a disease of this 
 nature being cured by a fit of laughter; and it is cer- 
 tainly an agreeable mode of being relieved of a painfu* 
 and dangerous malady. 
 
 A cardinal at Padua, who was at the point of death, 
 under the influence of this distemper, being past ail 
 hopes of recovery, his servants had begun to pillage his 
 house, and even to make free with the hangings of his 
 own bed. An ape, in the midst of this bustle, seized a 
 nightcap that lay near, fixed it upon his head, and 
 made so many and such curious tricks, that his rever- 
 ence fell into a fit of laughter, and broke the impos- 
 thume, to the preservation of his life and property. 
 
 Another instance may be related. A countrywoman, 
 very ignorant and superstitious, took it into her head 
 to send for the parson of the parish to pray for the 
 recovery of her cow, which was affected with a dis- 
 temper incident to animals of that species. Not sus- 
 .pecting but that he was called to visit the woman her- 
 self, or some of her family in affliction, the pious man 
 went forthwith, and, to his surprise, was not only in- 
 formed why he was sent for, but the good woman 
 insisted that he should go and see her cow before she 
 would allow him to depart. Unable to resist her im- 
 portunities, he went to the byre, and taking a handful 
 of the short straw that lay beside the cow, spread it 
 upon her back, saying, " Poor beast, if you be no better 
 for this, you will be no worse." The parson returned 
 home, and the good woman was highly displeased with 
 his indifference towards her favorite cow. 
 
 It happened, soon after, that she had an opportunity 
 to retaliate: the parson was taken dangerously ill of 
 an imposthume, and the woman, hearing of jt, went to 
 return his visit Arrived at the parson's house, she, in 
 
WILLIAM CADY. 109 
 
 consequence of her importunities, was admitted into his 
 bedchamber; and, having kindly inquired after his 
 health, went forward to the chimney, and taking up a 
 handful of ashes from the hearth, scattered them over 
 the parson, using his own words, "Poor man ! if you 
 be no better for this, you will be no worse;" which 
 raised such a fit of laughter in the good man, that his 
 imposthume broke and his cure was effected. 
 
 For the speedy and unexpected cure before related, 
 the uncle of Cady gave him fifty guineas, which sup- 
 plied his extravagances for one month. His purse 
 being empty, he took his leave of the healing art, in 
 which he had been so successful, and commenced rob- 
 ber. His first adventure was with a captain of the 
 guards and another gentleman, of whom he inquired 
 the way to Staines, as he was a stranger. They in- 
 formed him that they were going to that place, and 
 that they would be glad of his company. When he 
 arrived at a convenient place, Cady shot the gentleman 
 through the head, and, turning to the officer, told him 
 that " if he did not deliver, he should share the same 
 fate." The other replied that as he was a captain of 
 the guards, Cady must fight if he expected to get any- 
 thing from him. "If you are a soldier," cried Cady, 
 "you ought to obey the word of command, otherwise 
 you know your sentence: I have nothing to do but to 
 tie you neck and heel." "You are an unconscionable 
 rogue," said the captain, " to demand money of me, 
 who never owed you any." "Sir," replied Cady, 
 " there is not a man that travels the road but owes me 
 money, if he has any about him : therefore, as you are 
 one of my debtors, if you do not pay me instantly, 
 your blood shall satisfy my demand." The captain 
 exchanged several shots with Cady; but his horse 
 being killed under him, he surrendered his watch, a 
 diamond ring, and a purse of twenty guineas. William, 
 having collected all he could, tied the captain neck and 
 heel, nailed the skirts of his coat to a tree, and rode off 
 in search of more booty. 
 
 His next encounter was with viscount Dundee, who 
 j 
 
110 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 commanded the forces of James VII. of Scotland, and 
 the second of England, and fell in the battle of Killi- 
 crankie. Dundee was mounted upon horseback, at- 
 tended by two servants. Cady rode up to them at full 
 speed, and inquired if they did not see a man ride past 
 with more than ordinary haste. " Yes," he was pre- 
 sently answered. "He has robbed me of twenty pounds 
 that 1 was going to pay my landlord, and I am utterly 
 mined !" cried Cady. The man who had ridden by 
 was a confederate, and had done so by express concert. 
 His lordship was moved with compassion, and ordered 
 the two footmen to pursue the robber. When the ser- 
 vants seemed to have got to a sufficient distance, Cady 
 turned upon his lordship, and robbed him of a gold 
 watch, a gold snuff-box, and fifty guineas. He then 
 shot the viscount's horse, and rode after the footmen, 
 whom he found about a mile orT with the supposed 
 robber as their prisoner. These men were surprised 
 when Cady desired them to let him go, and laughed at 
 them for what they had done. They, however, refu- 
 sing to part with their prey, a scuffle ensued, and one 
 of the footmen being slain, the other fled, and found 
 that his master had been dismounted and robbed. 
 
 Dundee complained of this injury at court, and a 
 reward of two hundred pounds was offered to any per- 
 son who should apprehend either Cady or his com- 
 panion, who were both minutely described. To evade 
 the diligent search which he was certain this proclama- 
 tion would occasion, he went over to Flanders. As he 
 had received a liberal education, he entered himself of 
 the English seminary of Douay, and. joining the fra- 
 ternity of Benedictine friars, soon acquired an extraor- 
 dinary character for learning and piety. The natural 
 result was, that many penitents resorted to him for 
 confession. The rigid sanctity and ecclesiastical duties 
 of Cady were, however, soon found rather troublesome 
 companions, and he resolved to return to England, pre- 
 ferring his rambles upon the highway to the devotions 
 of the convent. But, as money was necessary for his 
 voyage, his invention was again set in motion. 
 
WILLIAM CADY. Ill 
 
 To effect his purpose, he feigned himself sick, and, 
 being confined to bed, was visited by many of those 
 who had formerly employed him as their father-con- 
 fessor. He particularly fixed his attention upon two 
 young women, who generally came together, and were 
 both very rich and very handsome. He had previously 
 procured a brace of pistols. When the ladies next came 
 to him and had made their confession, he desired them 
 presently to attend to him. He briefly informed them 
 that he was greatly in want of money, and that if they 
 did not instantly supply his wants, he would deprive 
 them of their lives, hoiding at the same time a pistol 
 to their breasts. He then proceeded to rifle their pock- 
 ets, where he found fifty pistoles. In addition to this, 
 he compelled them to make an offering of two diamond 
 rings from their fingers; then, binding them neck and 
 heel, he.informed the father of the convent that he was 
 going to walk a little in the fields, and would soon 
 return. It is needless to* say that he returned no more 
 to his religious habitation, but renewed his former mode 
 of life. 
 
 Scarcely was he arrived in England, when he met a 
 hop merchant, accompanied by his wife, upon Black- 
 heath, and commanded them to stand and deliver. 
 The merchant made a stout resistance, firing two pis- 
 tols, but without effect ; so that he was left to the mercy 
 of the robber, who killed their horse, and, examining 
 their pockets, found twenty-eight pounds upon the 
 merchant, and half a crown upon his wife. 
 
 Cady then addressed her thus: "Is this your way 
 of travelling 1 What ! carry but half a crown in your 
 pocket when you are to meet a gentleman-collector on 
 the highway? I '11 assure you, madam, I shall be even 
 with you, therefore off with that ring from your finger." 
 She begged him to spare her marriage ring, as she 
 would not lose it for double the value, having kept and 
 worn it these twenty years. "You whining old wo- 
 man," quoth William, ''marriage is nothing to me; — 
 am 1 to be more favorable to you than any other wo- 
 man, I '11 warrant ? Give me the ring in a moment. 
 
112 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 without any more cant, or I shall make bold to cut ofT 
 your finger for despatch, as 1 have served several of 
 your sex before." The good woman, seeing all her 
 entreaties vain, hastily pulled the ring off her finger, 
 and thrust it into her mouth. Cady then stamped, 
 raged, and swore that he would be even With hei ; and 
 instantly shooting her through the head, went away 
 perfectly unmoved, while the husband, being tied to a 
 tree, was a spectator of this horrid barbarity. 
 
 Cady rode instantly to London, but fearing that even 
 that great city could not conceal the author of a ciime 
 so unparalleled, he left the metropolis, and went to 
 Scotland. Either his inclinations did not lead him, or 
 he deemed that country too poor to afford him sufficient 
 booty; he therefore soon returned again to England. 
 On his road to the capital, between Ferrybridge and 
 Doncaster, he met with Dr. Morton, a prebendary of 
 Durham, well mounted; but whether meditating upon 
 the amount of his tithes, or the next Sabbath's sermon, 
 is uncertain. Cady instantly rode up to him, and cried, 
 "Deliver, or you are a dead msm !" The doctor, un- 
 accustomed to such language, began to admonish him 
 concerning the atrocity of his conduct, and the danger 
 that he was in, both with respect to his body and his 
 soul. Cady stared him in the face with all the ferocity 
 that he could muster, and informed him thrt his remon- 
 strances were in vain, saying, that if he did not deliver 
 him what he had, he should speedily send him out of 
 the world. " But then," added Cady, " that is nothing, 
 because all the gentlemen of your cloth are prepared 
 for death. What, you unreasonable, you unmannerly 
 dog !" continued he, in a rage, unable to discover the 
 doctor's cash, " what do you mean, to meet a man in 
 the midst of his journey, without bringing him any 
 money to pay his charges?" For the doctor had taken 
 care to hide his money in a hedge, so that Cady, upon 
 examining him, found his pockets completely empty. 
 The ruffian, convinced that a man of his appearance 
 could not travel without money, with dreadful impre- 
 cations threatened that if he would not inform him 
 
WILLIAM CADY. 113 
 
 rhat he had done with it, he should never go home 
 dive. The doctor insisting that he had none, the 
 wretch shot him through the heart with as little re- 
 morse as he would have drunk a glass of burgundy. 
 
 He next undertook a journey into Norfolk to visit 
 /lis relations, hut meeting a coach near that place, in 
 which were three gentlemen and a lady, he rode up to 
 it. and addressed them in his own language. The 
 gentlemen, however, were resolved to stand upon the 
 defensive, and one of them fired a blunderbuss at him, 
 which only grazed his arm, without doing any material 
 injury. This put him into a violent passion, and. after 
 taking a hundred and fifty pounds from the company, 
 he brutally added, that the gentleman who fired at him 
 should not pass unpunished, and instantly shot him 
 through the heart; then, cutting the reins of the horses, 
 he went off in search of new plunder, and declined 
 visiting his relations upon that occasion, lest he should 
 have been detected. 
 
 Directing his course to London, he came up with a 
 lady taking a ride for the benefit of the air, attended by 
 a single footman, and fell upon her in a very rude 
 manner, pulling a diamond ring from her finger, a gold 
 watch out of her pocket, and a purse with eighty gui- 
 neas; insulting her meanwhile with opprobrious lan- 
 guage. Though the lady had commanded her footman 
 not to interfere, yet the man could not help compli- 
 menting Cady with some well-merited appellations. 
 The ferocious monster, without uttering a word, sa- 
 luted him with a brace of bullets in the head, and he 
 fell upon the spot. Cady was just about to prosecute 
 his journey, when two gentlemen, perceiving what he 
 had done, rode up to him with pistols in their hands. 
 Cady seeing his danger, fired at them, and shots were 
 exchanged with the greatest rapidity, until Cady's 
 horse was shot under him ; and even then he struggled 
 with the greatest violence with the gentlemen, until his 
 strength was exhausted ; he was then apprehended, * 
 and carried to Newgate under a strong guard. There 
 he remained until the assizes, without showing the 
 
114 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 least signs of repentance, or tokens of regret. Upon 
 his trial he behaved with the most daring insolence, 
 ceiling the judges "a huddle of alms- women," and 
 treating the jury in the same manner. The crime for 
 which he was accused was so clearly proved, that he 
 was sentenced to death, and committed to the con- 
 demned hole. But this place of darkness and horror 
 had no effect upon his mind. He continued to roar, 
 curse, blaspheme, and get drunk, as he had always 
 done. It is probable that the hope of pardon, by the 
 influence of some friends at court, tended to harden 
 him the more; but the number and enormity of his 
 crimes prevented James the Second from extending his 
 royal mercy to such a miscreant. The day of execu- 
 tion being come, and the cart stopping as usual under 
 St. Sepulchre's wall, while the bellman rang his bell 
 and repeated his exhortations, instead of being moved, 
 he began to swear and to rail because they stooped 
 him to hear an old puppy chatter nonsense. At Ty- 
 burn he acted in a similar manner: without either tak- 
 ing any notice of the ordinary, praying by himself, or 
 addressing the people, he rushed into an eternal state 
 to suffer the jurt punishment of his great and numerous 
 offences. He died in the twenty-fifth year of his age, 
 in the year 1687. 
 
 PATRICK O' BRIAN. 
 
 Patrick O' Brian was a native of Ireland, and his 
 parents were very indigent. He came over to England, 
 and enlisted in the Coldstream Guards. He was, how- 
 ever, not so dexterous in the use of his arms as he was 
 in the practice of all manner of vice. Patrick was 
 resolved not to want money, if there was any in the 
 country. He first ran into debt at all the public houses 
 
PATRICK O'BRIAN. 115 
 
 ami shops that would trust him ; then borrowed from 
 every person, as long as any one could be found to 
 believe him. 
 
 When fraud failed him, he had recourse to force. 
 Doctor Clevver, rector of Cruydon, was the first whom 
 .le attacked. This man had been, in his youth, tried 
 at the Old Bailey, and burned in the hand, for stealing 
 a silver cup. Alluding to this, Patrick said, that ' he 
 could not refuse lending a little assistance to one of his 
 old profession." The doctor assured him that " he ad 
 not made a word, 1 if he had had any money about him; 
 but he had not so much as a single farthing." " Then," 
 said Patrick, u I must have your gown, sir." u If you 
 can win it," cried the doctor, " you shall ; but let me 
 have the chance of a game of cards." To this O'Bnan 
 consented; and the doctor pulling out a pack of cards, 
 they commenced. Patrick was victorious, and ob- 
 tained the black gown. 
 
 One day, Patrick attacked a famous posture-master, 
 and commanded him to " stand and deliver !" The 
 latter instantly jumped over his head, which led Pat- 
 rick to suppose that it was the devil come to sport with 
 him before his time. By this display of his agility the 
 harlequin escaped with his money, and had tl e good 
 fortune never to afford to O'Brian an opportunity to be 
 revenged of him for his fright. 
 
 Our adventurer at last commenced highwayman. 
 For this purpose he purchased a horse and other neces- 
 saries, and began in due form. He one day met with 
 the celebrated Nell Gwynne in her coach, and addressed 
 her, saying : " Madam, 1 am a gentleman ; 1 have done 
 a great many signal services to the fair sex, and have, 
 in return, been all my life maintained by them. Now, 
 as I know that you are a charitable woman, I make 
 bold to ask you for a little money, though I never had 
 the honor of serving you in particular. However, if 
 any opportunity shall ever fall in my way, you may 
 depend upon it T will not be ungrateful." Nell made 
 him a present often guineas, and he went off in quest 
 of more plunder. 
 
116 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 It was with O' Brian as with every other wicked 
 man : he was solicitous to lead others to the same line 
 of conduct. In particular, he seduced a young man, 
 of the name of Wilt, who was apprehended, and suffer- 
 ed for his first offence. O' Brian was also apprehended, 
 and executed at Gloucester; and when he had hung 
 the usual time, his body was cut down, and given to 
 his friends ; but when carried home, he was observed 
 to move, on which a surgeon was immediately sent for, 
 who bled him ; and other means being used, he reco- 
 vered life. This fact was kept a secret, and it was 
 hoped that it would have had a salutary effect upon his 
 future conduct. His friends were very willing to con- 
 tribute towards his support, in order that he might live 
 in the most retired manner, and O' Brian engaged to 
 reform his life, and for some time kept his promise; 
 but the impressions of death, and all its tremendous 
 consequences, soon wearing off his mind, he returned 
 to his vicious courses. Abandoning his friends, and 
 purchasing a horse and other necessaries, O' Brian 
 again visited the road. 
 
 In about a year after his execution he met the very 
 gentleman who was his former prosecutor, and attacked 
 him in the same manner as before. The gentleman 
 was surprised to see himself stopped by the very same 
 person who had formerly robbed him, and who was 
 executed for that crime. His consternation was so 
 great that he could not avoid exhibiting it, and he 
 addressed O'Brian, saying, "How comes this to pass? 
 I thought that you had been hanged a twelvemonth 
 ago." "So I was, and therefore you ought to imagine 
 that what you now see is only my ghost. However, 
 lest you should be so uncivil as to hang my ghost too, 
 I think it my best way to secure you." Upon this, he 
 discharged a pistol through the gentleman's head, and,, 
 alighting from his horse, cut his body in pieces with 
 his hanger. 
 
 One barbarity was followed by a greater. O'Brian, 
 accompanied by four others, attacked the house of 
 Launcelot Wilmot, Esq. of Wiltshire; entered, and 
 
THOMAS KUMBOLD. 117 
 
 bound all the servants; then went up to the gentle- 
 man's own room, and bound him and his wife. They 
 next proceeded to the daughter's chamber, whom they 
 stabbed to the heart, and having returned, in the same 
 manner butchered the old people, and rifled the house 
 to the value of two thousand five hundred pounds. 
 
 This miscreant continued his depredations two years 
 longer, until one of his accomplices confessed his crime, 
 and informed upon all who were concerned. Our 
 adventurer was seized at his lodgings at Little Suffolk 
 street, and conveyed to Salisbury, where he acknow- 
 ledged the crime. He was a second time executed, 
 and, to prevent another resuscitation, was hung in 
 chains, near the place where the crime was perpe- 
 trated, on the 30th of April, 1689. 
 
 THOMAS RUMBOLD. 
 
 Rumbold was the son of honest and industrious pa- 
 rents, who lived at Ipswich, in Suffolk. In his youth 
 he was apprenticed to a bricklayer; but evil inclina- 
 tions gaining an ascendancy over his mind, he quitted 
 his employment before a third part of his time was 
 expired. In order to support himself after having ab- 
 sconded, and conceiving a great desire to see London, 
 he repaired thither, and soon confederated himself with 
 a gang of robbers. Li conjunction with these he shared 
 in many daring exploits; but wishing to try his skill 
 and fortune alone, he left them, and repaired to the 
 road. 
 
 He travelled from London with the intention of way- 
 'aying the archbishop of Canterbury. Having got sight 
 of the party between Rochester and Sittingbourne in 
 Kent, he got into a field, and placing a tablecloth t>n 
 the grass, on which he placed several handfuls of gold 
 and silver, took a box and dice out of his pocket, and 
 
118 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBEKS. 
 
 commenced a game at hazard by himself. His grace 
 observing him in this situation, sent a servant to in- 
 quire the meaning; who upon coming near Rumbold, 
 heard him swearing and rioting about his losses, but 
 never paid the least attention to his questions. The 
 servant returned and informed the prelate, who alight- 
 ed, and seeing none but Rumbold, asked him whom he 
 was playing with. "Pray, sir," said Rumbold, "be 
 silent — five hundred pounds lost in a jiffey !" His 
 grace was about to speak again — "Ay," continued 
 Rumbold, continuing to play on, " there goes a hundred 
 more!" " Pr'ythee," said the archbishop, "do tell me 
 whom you piay with." Rumbold replied, " With 
 ," naming some one who perhaps never had exist- 
 ence. "And how will you send the money to him?" 
 " By his ambassadors," quoth Rumbold ; " and, consi- 
 dering your grace as one of them extraordinary, I shall 
 beg the favor of you to carry it to him." He accord- 
 ingly rose and rode up to the carriage, and, placing in 
 the seat about six hundred pounds, rode off. He pro- 
 ceeded on the road he knew the archbishop had to tra- 
 vel, and both, having refreshed at Sittingbourne, again 
 took the road, Rumbold preceding the bishop by a little 
 distance. He waited at a convenient place, and again 
 seated himself on the grass in the same manner as 
 before, only having very little money on the cloth. 
 The bishop again observed him, and now believing 
 him really to be a mad gamester, walked up to him, 
 and just as his grace was going to accost him, Rum- 
 boid cried out with great seeming joy, "Six hundred 
 pounds!" "What!" said the archbishop, "losing 
 again?" "No, by G — !" replied Rumbold, "won 
 six hundred pounds ! I '11 play this hand out, and 
 then leave off while I 'm well." " And of whom have 
 you won them ?" said his grace. " Of the same person 
 that I Left the six hundred pounds for with you before 
 dinner." "And how will you get your winnings?" 
 "Of his ambassador, to be sure," said Rumbold; so. 
 presenting his pistol and drawn sword, he rode up to 
 the carriage, and took from the seat his own money, 
 
THOMAS RUMBOLD. 119 
 
 and fourteen hundred pounds besides, with which he 
 got clear off. 
 
 With part of this money Rumbold bought himself an 
 eligible situation ; but still he could not give up his 
 propensity of appropriating to himself the purses of 
 others. For many miles round London he had the 
 waiters and chambermaids of the inns enlisted into his 
 service ; and though, to appearance, in an honest way 
 of gaining a livelihood, he continued his nefarious 
 courses to a great extent. He was not, indeed, always 
 successful; but, having once been apprized of two rich 
 travellers being at an inn where one of his assistants 
 was, he left London immediately, and waited on the 
 road which he had been informed the travellers were 
 to take: long, however, he might have waited, for the 
 travellers were too cunning, and pretended to be travel- 
 ling to the place which they had last left. Determined, 
 however, not to return without doing some business, 
 he waited on the road : the earl of Oxford, attended by 
 a single footman, soon appeared, and, being known to 
 his lordship, he disguised himself by throwing his long 
 hair over his face, and holding it with his teeth. In 
 this clumsy mask he rode up, demanded his lordship's 
 purse, and threatened to shoot both the servant and 
 him if they made the least resistance. Expostula- 
 tions were vain, and he proceeded to rifle the earl, in 
 whose coat and waistcoat he found nothing but dice 
 and cards, and was much enraged, till, feeling the 
 other pockets, he discovered a nest of goldfinches,* 
 with which he was mightily pleased, and said he would 
 take them home and cage them; recommending his 
 lordship to return to his regiment and attend to his 
 duty, giving him a shilling as an encouragement. 
 
 As Rumbold was riding along the road, he met a 
 country girl with a milkpail on her head, with whose 
 beauty and symmetry of shape he was greatly taken. 
 Having entered into conversation, Rumbold alighted, 
 and, excusing himself for the freedom, sat beside her 
 while she milked her cows. Pleased with each other's 
 
 # Guineas. 
 
120 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 company, they made an assignation the same evening: 
 our adventurer was to come to her father's house at a 
 late hour, and, pretending to have lost his road, solicit 
 a night's lodging. The plan was accordingly followed 
 out; but they were disappointed in each other's society 
 that evening, for some cue of the family kept asiir all 
 night. Determined, however, not to leave his fair con- 
 vert, he pretended in the morning to be taken danger- 
 ously ill, and the good farmer rode off immediately for 
 medical assistance. All the power of surgery, however, 
 could not discover his ailment. The farmer kindly 
 insisted upon his remaining where he was until he 
 should recover, to which he, with great professions of 
 gratitude, assented. Completely overpowered by such 
 generosity, Rumbold wished to make some apparent 
 return; and, borrowing a name, told him he was a 
 bachelor of property in a certain county ; that he had 
 hitherto remained secure against the attacks of beauty, 
 but that he now was vanquished by the attractions of 
 his daughter, and hoped, if the girl had no objection, 
 that a proposal of marriage would not be unacceptable 
 to the family. The farmer, in his turn, overcome by 
 such a mark of condescension, expressed himself highly 
 gratified by the proposal; and, upon communicating it 
 to the family, all were agieeable, and, none more so 
 than the girl. The idea of adding gentility to the for- 
 tune which the farmer intended for his daughter, quite 
 elated him, and made him extremely anxious to gain 
 the favor of the suitor. Rumbold followed out the 
 design, and his endearments with the daughter were 
 thus more frequent than he expected. His principal 
 design was to sift the girl as to the quantity of money 
 her father had in the house, and where it lay ; but he 
 was chagrined when informed that there were only a 
 few pounds ; for that, a few days before they met, Uer 
 father had made a great purchase, which took all his 
 ready money. Seeing, now, that there was no chance 
 of gleaning the father's harvest, he resolved to leave 
 the family, and, accordingly, one evening took his 
 
THOMAS RUMBOLD. 121 
 
 march incognito, leaving the girl a piesent of twenty 
 pieces of gold, inclosed in a copy of verses. 
 
 He proceeded on the road, and met with no person 
 worthy his notice until the following day, when a sin- 
 gular occurrence happened to him. Passing by a small 
 coppice between two hills, a gentleman, as he supposed, 
 darted out upon him, and commanded him to stand 
 and deliver. Rumbold requested him to have patience, 
 and he would surrender all his property ; when, putting 
 his hand in his pocket, he drew a pistol, and fired at his 
 opponent without the shot taking effect. "If you are 
 for sport," cried the other, " y* u shall have it !" and 
 instantly shot him slightly in the thigh ; and at the 
 same moment drawing his sword, he cut Rumbold's 
 reins at one blow ; thus rendering him unable to ma- 
 nage his horse. Rumbold fired his remaining pistol, 
 and again missed his adversary, but shot his horse 
 dead. Thus dismounted, the gentleman made a thrust 
 at him with his sword, which, missing Rumbold, pene- 
 trated his horse, and brought them once more upon an 
 equal footing. After hard fighting on both sides, our 
 adventurer threw his adversary, bound him hand and 
 foot, and proceeded to his more immediate object of 
 rifling. Upon opening his coat he was amazed to dis- 
 cover that he had been fighting with a woman. Raising 
 her up in his arms, he exclaimed, "Pardon me, most 
 courageous Amazon, for thus rudely dealing with you : 
 it was nothing but ignorance that caused this error; 
 for, could my dim-sighted soul have distinguished 
 what you were, the great love and respect I bear your 
 sex would have deterred me from contending with 
 you : but I esteem this ignorance of mine as the great- 
 est happiness, since knowledge, in this case, might 
 have deprived me of the opportunity of knowing there 
 could be so much valor in a woman. For your sake, 
 I shall forever retain a very high esteem for the worst 
 of females." The Amazon replied, that this was nei- 
 ther a place nor opportunity for eloquent speeches, but 
 that, if he felt no reluctance, she would conduct him to 
 a more appropriate place : to which he readily assented. 
 K 
 
122 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBEES. 
 
 They entered a dark wood, and, following the winding 
 of several obscure passages, arrived at a house upon 
 which, apparently, the sun had not been accustomed to 
 shine. A number of servants appeared, and bustled 
 about their lady, whose disguise was familiar to them ; 
 but they were astonished to see her return on foot, at- 
 tended by a stranger. 
 
 Being conducted into an elegant apartment, and hav- 
 ing been refreshed by whatever the house afforded, they 
 became very familiar, and Rumbold pressed his com- 
 panion to relate her history, which, with great frank- 
 ness, she did in the following words : — 
 
 "I cannot, sir, deny your request, since we seem to 
 have formed a friendship which, I hope, will turn out 
 to our mutual advantage. I am the daughter of a 
 sword-cutler: in my youth my mother would have 
 taught me to handle a needle, but my martial spirit 
 gainsaid all persuasions to that purpose. I never could 
 bear to be among the utensils of the kitchen, but was 
 constantly in my father's shop, and took wonderful 
 delight in handling the warlike instruments he made; 
 to take a sharp and well-mounted sword in my hand, 
 and brandish it, was my chief recreation. Being about 
 twelve years of age, I studied by every means possible 
 how I might form an acquaintance with a fencing- 
 master. Time brought my desires to an accomplish- 
 ment; for such a person came into my father's shop to 
 have a blade furbished, and it so happened that theie 
 was none to answer him but myself. Having given 
 him the satisfaction he desired, though he did not 
 expect it from me, among other questions I asked him 
 if he was not a professor of the noble science of self- 
 defence, which I was pretty sure of from his postures, 
 looks, and expressions. He answered in the affirma- 
 tive, and I informed him I was glad of the opportunity, 
 and begged him to conceal my intention, while I re- 
 quested he would instruct me in the art of fencing. 
 At first, he seemed amazed at my propojal ; but, per- 
 ceiving I was resolved in good earnest, he granted my 
 request, and appointed a time which he could conve- 
 
THOMAS KUMBOLD. 123 
 
 niently allot to that purpose. In a short time I became 
 so expert at back-sword and single rapier, that I no 
 longer required his assistance, and my parents never 
 once discovered this transaction. 
 
 " I shall waive what exploits I did by the help of my 
 disguise, and only tell you that, when I reached the 
 age of fifteen, an innkeeper married me, and carried 
 me into the country. For two years we lived peacea- 
 bly and comfortably together; but at length the violent 
 and imperious temper of my husband called my natural 
 humor into action. Once a week we seldom missed a 
 combat, which generally proved very sharp, especially 
 on the head of the poor innkeeper; the gaping wounds 
 of our discontent were not easily salved, and they in a 
 manner became incurable. I was not much inclined 
 to love him, because he was a man of a mean and 
 dastardly spirit. Being likewise stinted in cash, my 
 life grew altogether comfortless, and I looked on my 
 condition as insupportable, and, as a means of miti- 
 gating my troubles, I was compelled to adopt the re- 
 solution of borrowing a purse occasionally. I judged 
 this resolution safe enough, if I were not detected in 
 the very act; for who could suspect me to be a robber, 
 wearing abroad man's apparel, but at home a dress 
 suitable to my sex? Besides, no one could procure 
 better information, or had more frequent opportunities 
 than myself: for, keeping an inn, who could ascertain 
 what booty their guests carried with them better than 
 their landlady ? 
 
 " As you can vouch, sir, I knew myself not to be 
 destitute of courage ; what, then, could hinder me from 
 entering on such enterprises? Having thus resolved, I 
 soon provided myself with the necessary habiliments 
 for my scheme, carried it into immediate execution, 
 and continued with great success, never having failed 
 till now. Instead of riding to market, or travelling rive 
 or six miles about some piece of business, (the usual 
 pretences with which I blinded my husband,) I would, 
 when out of sight, take the road to the house in which 
 we now are, where I metamorphosed myself, and pro- 
 
124 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 ceeded to the road in search of prey. Not long since, 
 my husband had one hundred pounds due to him about 
 twenty miles from home, and appointed a certain day for 
 receiving it. Glad I was to hear of this, and instantly 
 resolved to be revenged on him for all the injuries and 
 churlish outrages he had committed against me ; I knew 
 very well the way he went, and understood the time he 
 intended to return. I waylaid him, and had not to wait 
 above three hours, when my lord and master made his 
 appearance, whistling with joy at his heavy purse. I 
 soon made him change the tune to a more doleful ditty 
 in lamentation of his bad fortune. I permitted him to 
 pass, but soon overtook him, and keeping close by him 
 for a mile or two, at length found the coast clear, and, 
 riding up and seizing his bridle, presented a pistol to 
 his breast, and in a hoarse voice demanded his purse, 
 else he was a dead man. This imperious don, seeing 
 death before his face, had nearly saved me the trouble 
 by dying without compulsion; and so terrified did he 
 appear, that he looked more like an apparition than 
 any thing human. 'Sirrah !' said I, 'be expeditious;' 
 but a dead palsy had'so seized every part of him, that 
 his eyes were incapable of directing his hands to his 
 pockets. I soon recalled his spirits by two or three 
 sharp blows with the flat of my sword, which speedily 
 wakened him, and, with great trembling and submis- 
 sion, he resigned his money. After I had dismounted 
 him, I cut his horse's reins and saddle-girths, beat him 
 most soundly, and dismissed him, saying : ' Now, you 
 rogue, I am even with you; have a care, the next time 
 you strike a woman, (your wife, I mean,) for none but 
 such as dare not fight a man, will lift up his hand 
 against the weaker vessel. Now you see what it is to 
 provoke them, for, if once irritated, they are restless 
 till they accomplish their revenge to their satisfaction : 
 I have a good mind to end your wicked courses with 
 your life, inhuman varlet, but I am loth to be hanged 
 for nothing, I mean for such a worthless fellow as you 
 are. Farewell ! this money shall serve me to purchase 
 wine to drink a toast to the confusion of all such ras- 
 
THOMAS RUMBOLD. 125 
 
 cally and mean-spirited things V I then left him, 
 and—" 
 
 This extraordinary character was about to proceed 
 with the narration of her exploits, when the servant 
 announced the arrival of two gentlemen. Our heroine 
 left the room, and returning with her friends, apologized 
 to "our adventurer for the interruption, but hoped he 
 would not find the company of her companions disa- 
 greeable, whom he soon discovered to be likewise 
 lemales in disguise. The conversation now became 
 general, and, upon condition of Rumbold stopping all 
 night with them, the Amazon promised to finish her 
 adventures next day. This accorded with the wishes 
 of Rumbold ; and when they retired to rest, he found 
 the same room was destined for them all. His curiosity 
 was, however, overcome by his covetousness ; for, ris- 
 ing early next morning, and finding all his companions 
 asleep, he rifled their pockets of a considerable quantity 
 of gold, and decamped with great expedition, thus dis- 
 appointing the reader in the continuation of a narrative 
 almost incredible from its singularity. 
 
 Our adventurer had frequently observed a goldsmith 
 in Lombard street counting large bags of gold, and he 
 became very desirous to have a share of the glittering 
 hoard. He made several unsuccessful attempts; but 
 having in his possession many rings, which he had 
 procured in the way of his profession, he dressed him- 
 self in the habit of a countryman, attended by a ser- 
 vant, and going to the goldsmith's shop, proposed to 
 sell one of these rings. The goldsmith, perceiving it to 
 be a diamond of considerable value, and from the ap- 
 pearance of Rumbold supposing he was ignorant of its 
 real worth, after examining it, with some hesitation 
 estimated its value at ten pounds. To convince the 
 countryman that, this was its full value, he showed him 
 a diamond ring very superior in quality, which he 
 would sell him for twenty pounds. Rumbold took the 
 goldsmith's ring to compare with his own, and, fully 
 acquainted with its value, informed him that he had 
 come to sell, but that it was a matter of small impor- 
 
126 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 tance to him whether he purchased or sold. He ac- 
 cordingly pulled out a purse of gold, and laid dowr> 
 the twenty pounds for the ring. The goldsmith storm- 
 ed and raged, crying that he had cheated him, and 
 insisted on having hack his ring. Rumbold, however, 
 kept hold of his bargain, and replied, that the other 
 had offered him the ring for twenty pounds ; that he 
 had a witness to his bargain ; there was his money, 
 and he hoped that he would give him a proper exchange 
 for his gold. 
 
 The goldsmith's indignation increasing at the pros- 
 pect of parting with his ring, he carried the matter 
 before a justice. Being plaintiff, he began his tale by 
 informing the magistrate, that " the countryman had 
 taken a diamond ring from him worth a hundred 
 pounds, and would give him but twenty pounds for it." 
 "Have a care," replied Rumbold, "for if you charge 
 me with taking a ring from you, which is, in other 
 words, stealing, I shall vex you more than I have yet 
 done." He then told the magistrate the whole story, 
 and produced his servant as a witness to the bargain. 
 The goldsmith now became infuriated, exclaiming, that 
 "he believed the country gentleman and his servant 
 were both impostors and cheats !" Rumbold replied, 
 that " he would do well to take care not to make his 
 cause worse ; that he was a gentleman of three hundred 
 pounds per annum; and that, being desirous to sell a 
 ring at its just price to the goldsmith, the latter en- 
 deavored to cheat him, by estimating it far below its 
 value." The magistrate, accordingly, decided in favor 
 of our adventurer, only appointing him to pay the 
 twenty pounds in gold, without any change. 
 
 The gold of Lombard street still continuing to attract 
 the attention of Rumbold, he with longing eyes one day 
 traversed that street, attended by a boy whom he had 
 trained in his service. The boy ran into a shop where 
 they were counting a bag of gold, seized a handful, 
 then let it all fall upon the counter, and ran off. The 
 servants pursued, seized the boy, and charged him with 
 having some of the money. Rumbold approached to 
 
THOMAS RUMBOLD. 127 
 
 the assistance of the boy, insisting that the youth had 
 not stolen a farthing of their money, and that the gold- 
 smith should suffer for his audacity. The goldsmith 
 and Rumhold came to high words, and mutual volleys 
 of imprecations were exchanged. The latter then 
 inquired what sum he charged the boy with having 
 stolen. The goldsmith replied, that he did not know, 
 but that the bag originally contained a hundred pounds. 
 
 Upon this, Rumbold insisted that he would wa.'t 
 until he saw the money counted. He tarried about 
 half an hour, and the money was found complete. 
 The goldsmith made an apology to Rumbold for the 
 mistake ; but the latter replied, that, as a gentleman, 
 no one should put upon him such an affront with im- 
 punity. After some strong expressions on both sides, 
 Rumbold took his leave, assuring his antagonist that 
 he should hear from him. The goldsmith was arrested 
 the day following, in an action of defamation. The 
 bailiff who arrested him, being bribed by our adven- 
 turer, advised him to compromise the matter; urging, 
 that the gentleman he had injured was a person of 
 quality, and if he persisted in the action, it would ex- 
 pose him to severe damages. With some difficulty the 
 matter was settled, by the goldsmith giving Rumbold 
 twenty pounds in damages. 
 
 A jeweller in Foster lane next supplied the extrava- 
 gances of Rumbold. He had often disposed of articles 
 for that jeweller, who had full confidence in Rumbold's 
 fidelity. One day, having observed in his shop a very 
 rich jewel, he acquainted the jeweller that he could sell 
 it for him. Happy at such information, he delivered 
 it to Rumbold, who carried it to another jeweller to 
 have a false one, exactly similar, prepared. He then 
 embraced an opportunity to leave the counterfeit jewel 
 with the jeweller's wife, in his absence. Shortly after- 
 wards, he met the jeweller in the street, who said he 
 never expected to have been so used by him, and 
 threatened to bring the matter under the cognizance of 
 a judge ; but Rumbold retreated to a remote part of the 
 city. 
 
128 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 Rumbold was one day travelling in the vicinity of 
 Hackney, when his attention was directed towards a 
 house, which he earnestly desired to possess. He ap- 
 proached the house, knocked at the door, and inquired 
 if the landlord was at home. He soon appeared ; when 
 Rumbold politely informed him, that, having been 
 highly pleased with the appearance of his house, he 
 was resolved to have one built after the same model, 
 and requested the favor of being permitted to send a 
 tradesman to take its exact dimensions. This favor 
 was readily granted ; when our adventurer went to a 
 carpenter, and informed him that he wished him to go 
 along with him to Hackney to measure a house, in order 
 that he might have one built on a similar construction. 
 They accordingly went, and found the gentleman at 
 home, who kindly entertained Rumbold, while the car- 
 penter took the dimensions of every part of the house. 
 
 The carpenter, being amply rewarded, was dismiss- 
 ed, and, by the aid of the draught of the house taken 
 by him, Rumbold drew up a lease, with a very great 
 penalty in case of failure to fulfil the agreement. Be- 
 ing provided with witnesses to the deed, he went and 
 demanded possession. The gentleman was surprised, 
 and only smiled at the absurdity of the demand. 
 Rumbold commenced a lawsuit for possession of the 
 house, and his witnesses swore to the validity of the 
 deed. The carpenter's evidence was also produced, 
 many other circumstances were mentioned to corro- 
 borate the fact, and a verdict was obtained in favor 
 of Rumbold' s claim. But the gentleman deemed it 
 proper to pay the penalty rather than to lose his house. 
 
 Rumbold, disguised in the apparel of a person of 
 quality, one day waited on a scrivener, and acquainted 
 him that he had immediate occasion for a hundred 
 pounds, which he hoped he would be able to raise for 
 him upon good security. The scrivener inquired who 
 were the securities, and Rumbold named two respecta- 
 ble citizens, whom he knew to be at that time in the 
 country; which satisfying the money-lender, he de- 
 sired our adventurer to call next day. In the mean 
 
THOMAS RUMBOLD. 129 
 
 time, the lender made inquiry after the stability of the 
 securities, and found he had not been imposed upon as 
 to their respectability. Our adventurer again waited 
 upon the scrivener, who having agreed to advance the 
 sum, Rumbold sent for two of his accomplices, who 
 personated his securities, and, after a little preliminary 
 caution, signed the bond for him under their assumed 
 names; and, upon Rumbold's receiving the money, 
 they immediately took their leave. The name which 
 Rumbold assumed on this occasion was of further ser- 
 vice to him ; for it happened to be that of a gentleman 
 in Surrey, whom he met with, after this adventurs, at 
 an inn. Having learned what time the gentleman in- 
 tended to remain in town, and the name and situation 
 of his estate, he determined to render his chance meet- 
 ing of service to him. He accordingly again waited on 
 the same scrivener, and informed him he had occasion 
 for another hundred, but did not wish to trouble any 
 of his friends to become security for such a trifle ; for 
 that, as he possessed a good estate, it might be ad- 
 vanced upon his own bond ; and that if the scrivener 
 could spare a servant to ride the length of Surrey, he 
 would then learn the extent of his estate, and be ena- 
 bled to remove any scruple whatever. A servant was 
 accordingly sent, and directed to go and make inquiry 
 after the property of the stranger whom Rumbold had 
 met at the inn. Returning in a few days, Rumbold 
 found the scrivener very condescending, and prodigal 
 of congratulations upon the possession of so pleasant 
 and valuable a property, and said he would not have 
 scrupled though the loan had been for a thousand. 
 Rumbold, finding him thus inclined, doubled the sum, 
 and, after giving his own bond for two hundred 
 pounds, left the scrivener to seek redress as he best 
 could. 
 
 Rumbold thus supported himself by exercising his 
 ingenuity at the expense of others, and by this means 
 amassed a considerable sum of money. He was not 
 so addicted to these bad habits but that he felt an 
 inclination to retire from s»enes so fraught with danger 
 
 6 
 
130 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 I 
 
 and infamy. For this purpose he placed his money. in 
 the hands of a private banker, with a design of living 
 frugally and comfortably upon the interest. This 
 banker unfortunately failed, and made off with all 
 Rumbold's property; so that he was once more re- 
 duced to the necessity of having recourse to his old 
 employment. 
 
 The first exploit recorded of Rumbold after his re~ 
 appearance in public, is the following: — He stopped at 
 a tavern, where he called for a flagon of beer, which 
 was handed him in a silver cup, as was customary at 
 that time. Being in a private room and alone, he 
 called to. the landlord to partake of his noggin, and 
 they continued together for some time, until the land- 
 lord had occasion to leave him. Soon after, he went 
 to the bar and paid for his beer, while the waiter at the 
 same time went for the cup : missing which, he called 
 Rumbold back and asked him for the cup. "Cup!" 
 said Rumbold, "I left it in the room." A careful 
 search was made, but to no effect; the cup could not 
 be found, and the landlord openly accused Rumbold of 
 the theft. He willingly permitted his person to be 
 searched, which proved equally unsuccessful ; but the 
 landlord still persisted in maintaining that Rumbold 
 must have it, or, at all events, that he was chargeable 
 with the loss, and would have the matter investigated 
 by a justice, before whom they immediately went. 
 The landlord stated the case, while Rumbold com- 
 plained loudly of the injury done him by the suspi- 
 cion ; and from his never endeavoring to run off when 
 he was called back, and submitting so readily to be 
 searched, the justice dismissed him, and fined the land- 
 lord for his rashness. 
 
 During t^ieir visit to the justice, some of Rumbold's 
 associates entered the same inn, where, according to 
 arrangement, they found the cup fixed under the table 
 with soft wax, and made off with it without the least 
 suspicion. 
 
 The last recorded adventure of Rumbold was one 
 which is now very common in the metropolis. Having 
 
THOMAS RUMBOLD. 131 
 
 observed a countryman pretty flush of money, he and 
 his accomplices followed him; but, from Hodge's at- 
 tention to his pocket, they failed in several attempts to 
 pick it. Our practitioners, however, taking a conve- 
 nient opportunity and place, one of them went before and 
 dropped a letter, while another kept close by the coun- 
 tryman, and upon seeing it cried out, "See, what is 
 here?" But, although the countryman stooped to take 
 it up, our adventurer was too nimble for him ; and 
 having it in his hand, observed, " Here is somewhat 
 else besides a letter." "1 cry halves," said the coun- 
 tryman. "Well," said Rumbold, "you stooped, in- 
 deed, as well as I ; but I have it. However, I will be 
 fair with you ; let us see what it is, and whether it is 
 worth dividing;" and thereupon broke open the letter, 
 in which was enclosed a chain or necklace of gold. 
 " Good fortune," said Rumbold, "if this be real gold." 
 " How shall we know that?" replied the countryman ; 
 " let us see what the letter says ;" which ran as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 " Brother John, 
 " I have here sent you back this necklace of gold you 
 have sent me, not from any dislike I have to it, but my 
 wife is covetous, and would have a bigger. This 
 comes not to above seven pounds, and she would have 
 one of ten pounds ; therefore, pray get it changed for 
 one of that price, and send it by the bearer to your 
 loving brother, Jacob Thornton." 
 
 " Nay, then we have good luck," observed the cheat. 
 "But I hope," said he to the countryman, "you will 
 not expect a full share, for, you know, I found it : and, 
 besides, if one should divide it, I know not how to 
 break it in pieces without injuring it ; therefore, I had 
 * rather have my share in money." " Well," said the 
 countryman, " I will give you your share in money, 
 provided we divide equally." " That you shall," said 
 Rumbold, " and therefore I must have three pounds 
 ten shillings, the price in all being, as you see, seven 
 
132 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBEKS. 
 
 pounds." " Ay," said the countryman, thinking to be 
 cunning with our adventurer, " it may be worth seven 
 pounds in money, fashion and all : we must, however, 
 not value that, but only the gold ; therefore I think 
 three pounds in money are better than half the chain, 
 and so much I '11 give, if you '11 let me have it." 
 " Well, I'm contented," said Rumbold : "but then 
 you shall give me a pint of wine, over and above." To 
 this the other agreed, and to a tavern they went, where 
 the bargain was ratified. There Rumbold and the 
 countryman quickly disposed of two bottles of wine. 
 In the mean time one of Rumbold' s companions entered 
 the inn, inquiring for a certain person who was not 
 there. Rumbold informed the stranger (as he pre- 
 tended to be) that he would be there presently, as he 
 had seen him in the street, and requested him to come 
 in and wait for him. Upon this the stranger sat down 
 to wait the arrival of his friend. In a little time Rum- 
 bold proposed to remove into a larger apartment, where 
 they commenced playing at cards, to amuse themselves 
 until the gentleman expected should arrive. 
 
 Rumbold and his associate began their amusement, 
 the countryman being a stranger to the game. After 
 he had continued a spectator of the good fortune of our 
 adventurer, who in general vanquished the stranger, 
 the countryman was at length prevailed upon to run 
 halves with the fortunate gamester. For a while the 
 same good fortune smiled upon them, and the stranger, 
 in a rage at his great losses, refused to proceed. But 
 after a few bottles more were emptied, the long-expect- 
 ed gentleman never appearing, they renewed their 
 amusement; and fortune deserting Rumbold and the 
 countryman who seconded him, in a short time the 
 latter found himself without a shilling. 
 
 The landlord was then called to assist in drinking 
 the money gained, and, being informed how they had 
 cheated the countryman, was resolved to exert his 
 ingenuity at their expense. Meanwhile, several asso- 
 ciates of Rumbold, who had been respectively employed 
 in similar adventures, entered the room, joined in their 
 
THOMAS RUMBOLD. 133 
 
 conversation, and participated in their wine. The 
 landlord was at last requested to bring supper, which 
 was done with great alacrity. The bottle continuing 
 to move with considerable rapidity, the company were 
 in general intoxicated before they sat down to supper. 
 When it was brought in, however, they commenced 
 with great avidity, and soon despatched a shoulder of 
 mutton and two capons ; and, under the influence of 
 wine, all fell asleep with the dishes before them. 
 
 The landlord embraced this favorable moment of 
 silence to collect all the bones and remnants of the 
 whole day's provisions, and divided them upon the 
 plates which were upon the table. In a short time, 
 one of them losing his balance, embraced the floor, 
 and, by the noise of the fall, awoke the rest of the 
 drowsy company, who all renewed their attacks upon 
 the victuals. "How came these bones here?" cried 
 one of them ; " I do not remember that I ate any such 
 victuals." " Nor I," said another ; upon which the 
 landlord was called and interrogated. " Why, surely, 
 gentlemen, you have forgot yourselves," said he ; u you 
 have slept sound and fair indeed ! I believe you will 
 forget the collar of brawn you had too, that cost me six 
 shillings out of my pocket." " How, brawn !" said 
 one. "Ay, brawn," answered the landlord; "you 
 had it, and shall pay for it : you '11 remember nothing 
 presently. This is a fine drunken bout, indeed !" 
 " So it is," said one of the company ; " surely, we have 
 been in a dream : but it signifies nothing, my landlord, 
 you must and shall be paid. Give us another dozen 
 Dottles, and bring us the bill, that we may pay the 
 reckoning we have run up." This order was obeyed, 
 and a bill presented, amounting to seven pounds, and 
 every man was called upon to pay his share. The 
 countryman shrunk back, wishing to escape; but one 
 of them pulled him forward, saying, " Come, let us 
 tell noses, and every man pay alike." The country- 
 man desired to be excused, and said his money was all 
 exhausted ; they therefore agreed that he should be 
 exempted. 
 
 L 
 
134 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 In the morning, the countryman, in order to procure 
 money to carry him home, resolved to sell the chain in 
 his possession : he accordingly went to a goldsmith, 
 hut, to his additional mortification, was informed that 
 instead of gold, it was nothing but brass gilded over. 
 He acquainted the goldsmith with the whole matter, 
 who went along with him to a justice to obtain a war- 
 rant for the apprehension of Rumbold and his associ- 
 ates ; but before their arrival, the worthy knights of the 
 pistol had prudently decamped with their spoils. 
 
 Rumbold after this adventure had several narrow 
 escapes ; but, continuing his nefarious courses, he was 
 at length detected, tried, condemned, and executed at 
 Tyburn in the year 1689. 
 
 WHITNEY. 
 
 This notorious malefactor was born at Stevenage 
 in Hertfordshire, and served an apprenticeship to a 
 butcher. He often mentioned that he was happily 
 disappointed in his first attempt to steal. 
 
 He and his master went to Romford to purchase 
 calves, and there was an excellent one that they would 
 fain have had in their possession, but the owner and 
 they could not agree about the price. As the owner of 
 the calf kept an alehouse, they went in to taste his ale. 
 While they were enjoying themselves, but lamenting 
 the loss of the calf, Whitney whispered to his master, 
 that it would be foolish in them to give money for the 
 calf, when they might have it for nothing. The good 
 butcher understood his meaning and entered into his 
 plan. In the mean while they sat still drinking, wait- 
 ing their opportunity. 
 
 Unfortunately for their scheme, a fellow who tra- 
 velled the country with a she-bear, had put up at the 
 'louse where the butchers were drinking. The land- 
 
Whitney and &*, Bear. P. 134. 
 
WHITNEY. 137 
 
 lord had no place to put up this bear without removing 
 the calf to another house, which was accordingly done. 
 The butchers continued carousing until it was dark, 
 then having cheerfully paid their reckoning, in the 
 hope that the calf would reimburse them, they left the 
 house, and lurked about the fields until all was quiet. 
 Approaching the place where they had seen the calf 
 put up, Whitney was sent in to fetch it out. The bear 
 was resting her wearied limbs when Whitney took hold 
 of them, and was astonished to find the hair of the 
 calf had suddenly grown to such a length. Bruin 
 arose upon all-fours, opining, we suppose, that it was 
 her master about to show her in his usua 1 manner. 
 But she no sooner discovered that it was a stranger 
 who thus rudely assailed her, than she seized him .with 
 her two fore-paws and hugged him most lovingly to 
 her bosom. The master, surprised that he was so long 
 in bringing out the calf, began to chide him for his 
 delay. Whitney cried out, that he could not get away 
 himself, and he believed that the devil had hold of him. 
 "If it is the old boy," replied the master, " bring him 
 out, as I should like to see what kind of an animal he 
 is." His importunities at length brought the butcher 
 to his assistance, when they discovered their mistake, 
 and with no small difficulty disentangled Whitney 
 from the fraternal hug of honest bruin ; which having 
 done, they proceeded home without their prey, deter- 
 mined to attempt stealing calves no more. 
 
 Our young adventurer now abandoned the business 
 of buying and slaying animals, and took the George 
 inn at Cheshunt. In order to make the most of it, he 
 entertained all sorts- of people, whether good or bad. 
 Disappointment attended him in this as well as his 
 former employment, and he was constrained to shut up 
 his doors. 
 
 He now went up to London, the common haunt of 
 all profligates, where he lived in the most irregular 
 manner, giving himself wholly up to villany. After 
 practising the tricks of sharpers for a time, he at length 
 commenced business upon the highway. He was one 
 
138 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 day standing at the door of a mercer's shop, when two 
 young ladies, apparently of fashion, passed by, ele- 
 gantly dressed, one of whom inquired if he had any 
 silks of the newest patterns. Whitney replied, that he 
 had none at present, but should soon have some home 
 from the weaver. He then requested their address, 
 that the goods, when they came to hand, might be sent 
 to them. They were rather at a loss ; one of them, 
 however, answered, that they were only lately come to 
 town, and did not remember the name of their street. 
 They added, that, as it was not far off, if he would 
 accompany them, they would show him their habita- 
 tion. 
 
 This was just what he wanted ; therefore, going 
 into the shop, as if to leave orders, he hastened 
 along with the ladies — they supposing he was the silk- 
 mercer, and he that they were actually ladies of for- 
 tune, whom he might have an opportunity of robbing, 
 either presently or at some future period. Upon their 
 arrival he was introduced into an elegant parlor, and a 
 collation placed upon the table, with some excellent 
 wine, of which he was requested to partake. He was 
 soon left alone with one of the ladies, and discovering 
 his mistake, was resolved to have some more sport at 
 the expense of a silk -mercer, since he had been taken 
 for one. 
 
 Whitney went to a mercer, and mentioning the name 
 of a lady of quality in the neighborhood, said he had 
 been sent by her to request that the mercer would send 
 one of his men with several pieces of his best silks, as 
 the lady was to purchase a gown and petticoat. The 
 shopkeeper readily consented, and one of the appren- 
 tices was despatched along with him. To deceive the 
 young man, and render it impossible for him to disco- 
 ver the place where he should stop, he conducted him 
 through various streets and lanes, until he at last halted 
 at a house which had an entry into another street ; here 
 he took the parcel, and desired the lad to stand at the 
 door while he went in to show the ladies the silks. 
 Taking the parcel, he went in, and inquired for some 
 
WHITNEY. 139 
 
 person who he was certain was not there. He then 
 requested liberty to pass through to the next street, 
 which would shorten his way. This being granted, 
 he left the mercer's man to wait for his return. 
 
 Having thus fortunately succeeded, and been able to 
 fulfil his promise of giving one of the above-mentioned 
 ladies a silk dress, he hastened to their dwelling, where 
 they divided the spoil. For some days he remained 
 there, indulging in all manner of riot and excess, until, 
 satiated, he returned to his labor of seeking new adven- 
 tures. Determined, however, that no other person but 
 himself should reap the fruits of his ingenuity, he wrote 
 a letter to the mercer, informing him where he would 
 find his silks. Accordingly, having obtained a war- 
 rant, the house of the two damsels was searched, the 
 pieces found, and both the ladies were sentenced to 
 Bridewell to undergo whipping, and to submit to hard 
 labor. 
 
 When Whitney was confirmed in his business, he 
 met a gentleman on Bagshot heath, whom he com- 
 manded to stand and deliver : on which the other re- 
 marked, " It is well you spoke first, sir, for I was just 
 going to make a similar demand." " Why, then, you 
 are a gentleman-thief?" Whitney cried. " Yes," said 
 the stranger, " but I have had very bad success to-day, 
 for I have been riding up and down all this morning 
 without meeting with any prize." Whitney upon thia 
 wished him better luck, and took his leave. 
 
 At night Whitney and the above gentleman put up at 
 the same inn, when the latter related to some other 
 travellers by what stratagem he had evaded being 
 robbed on the road. Whitney having changed his 
 dress, the gentleman did not recognise him. Whitney 
 also heard him whisper to one of the company, that by 
 this contrivance he had saved a hundred pounds. That 
 person informed him, that he had a considerable sum 
 upon him, and that, if agreeable, he would travel next 
 day with him. Our adventurer overheard the conver- 
 sation, and resolved, without being solicited, to make 
 one of the party. In the morning they commenced 
 
140 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 their journey, and Whitney followed about a quarter 
 of an hour after. Their conversation turned upon the 
 best means to deceive the highwaymen ; and our ad- 
 venturer's meditations were, how he should be revenged 
 upon his quondam friend for the cheat he had received 
 the day before. 
 
 Whitney soon overtook them, and riding before, 
 turned suddenly about, presented his pistols, and com- 
 manded them to stand, and deliver. " We were going 
 to say the same to you, sir !" " Were you so?" replied 
 our hero, " and are you then of my profession?" 
 "Yes," said they both. "If you are, I suppose you 
 remember the old proverb, that two of a profession 
 cannot agree together, so that you must not expect any 
 favor on that score. But to be plain with you, gentle- 
 men, I know you very well, and must have your hun- 
 dred pounds, sir, — and your considerable sum, sir," — 
 turning first to the one, and then to the other, — " other- 
 wise I shall be bold to send a brace of bullets through 
 each of your heads. You, Messieurs Highwaymen, 
 should have kept your secret a little longer, and not 
 have boasted so soon of having outwitted a thief. 
 There is now nothing for you but to deliver or die !" 
 These words put them in a sad consternation : they 
 were very unwilling to lose their money, but more 
 unwilling to lose their lives; of two evils, therefore, 
 they preferred choosing the least. The one produced 
 his hundred pounds first, and the other gentleman his 
 considerable sum, which was a good deal more. 
 
 At another time, our adventurer met with an old 
 miser named Hull, on Hounslow Heath. The word of 
 command being given, he trembled in every joint, and 
 using the most piteous tones and humiliating com- 
 plaints, said that he was a very poor man and had a 
 large family, and he would be hard-hearted indeed who 
 would take his money. He added, besides, a great 
 deal more concerning the illegality of such an action, 
 and how dangerous it was to engage in evil courses. 
 Whitney, who knew him well, cried out in a violent 
 passion, " Sirrah, you pretend to preach morality to an 
 
WHITNEY. 141 
 
 honester man than yourself. Is it not more generous 
 to take a man's money from him bravely, than to grind 
 him to death by exacting eight or ten per cent, under 
 cover of serving him 1 You make a prey of all man- 
 kind, and necessity in an honest man is often the means 
 of his falling into your hands, who are sure to be the 
 means of undoing him. I am a man of more honor 
 than to show any compassion to one whom I esteem an 
 enemy to the whole species. For once, at least, I shall 
 oblige you to lend me what you have, without interest 
 or bond, so make no words !" Old Hull, upon this, 
 reluctantly pulled out eighteen pounds, telling him at 
 the same time that he would see him some time ride up 
 Holborn hill backwards. Whitney was retiring until 
 he heard these words, when, returning, he drew Hull 
 off his horse, and putting him on again with his face 
 towards the tail, and tying his legs, "Now," said he, 
 " you old rogue, let me see what a figure a man makes 
 when he rides backwards, and let me have the plea- 
 sure at least of seeing you first in that posture :" so 
 giving the horse a whip, the animal proceeded at a 
 desperate pace until it came to Hounslow Town, where 
 the people untied him, after they had enjoyed them- 
 selves at his expense. 
 
 In the course of Whitney's rambles, he one day put 
 up at an inn in Doncaster, and lived in a dashing style, 
 as he had then plenty of money. He was informed 
 that the landlord was a complete miser and sharper, 
 and that he would not spare the smallest sum to a p>oor 
 relation of his, who lived in the neighborhood. Ac- 
 cordingly, Whitney resolved to exert his ingenuity 
 upon his landlord; and gave out that he had a good 
 estate, and travelled merely for his own amusement. 
 He continued to pay his bills regularly, until he sup- 
 posed that his credit would be sufficiently established. 
 Then he one day mentioned to his landlord, that as his 
 money was run short, he would be obliged to him for 
 credit until he received remittances. " Oh, dear sir, 
 you need not give yourself any uneasiness about' such 
 a thing as this ; every thing in my house is at yom 
 
142 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 service ; and I shall think myself honored if you use 
 me as your friend." With abundance of eloquence, 
 our adventurer returned the compliment. He contin- 
 ued to live at his table, — his horse was well fed with 
 corn and hay, while Whitney, almost every day, took 
 a ride to some neighboring village along with the land- 
 lord and some others, who were all proud of the honor 
 he had done them. 
 
 It happened that there was an annual fair in that 
 place, and in the morning a box came directed to him ; 
 opening it, he took out a letter, and, having read it, 
 locked the box, and delivered it to the landlady, say- 
 ing, that it would be safer in her custody than in his 
 own. Having gone to see the fair, he returned in great 
 haste in the afternoon, desiring his horse to be instantly 
 dressed, as he had seen a horse in the fair for which he 
 was desirous to exchange his own, adding, that he was 
 determined to have the animal. He then requested the 
 landlady to give him his box ; but he was informed 
 that she was gone to the fair. Hereupon he affected to 
 burst out into a violent passion, saying, that he sup- 
 posed she had locked up what he committed to her 
 keeping: — " If she has," said he, " I had rather have 
 given ten guineas, for I have no money but what is in 
 her possession." Inquiry was made, and it was found 
 to be as he had said, which put him into a still greater 
 rage. This was, however, what he both wished and 
 expected, — the whole being of his own invention. The 
 landlord was informed of his rage, and the cause of it, 
 and entreated that he would be easy, as he would lend 
 him the sum he wanted until his wife came home. Our 
 hero was greatly distressed that he should have to bor- 
 row money when he had so much of his own ; but as 
 there was no other method of obtaining cash to pur- 
 chase his favorite horse, he accepted of the proffered 
 loan : with an imperious and haughty air, demanding 
 that his bill might be prepared for payment forthwith. 
 
 With forty guineas he rode to the fair; but instead 
 of inquiring for any other horse, he spurred his own 
 through the crowd, and hastened to London. The 
 
WHITNEY. 143 
 
 people of the inn waited long for his return that even- 
 ing; but, as he had frequently stayed two or three 
 days at once in his rambles through the country, they 
 suspected no fraud. After waiting with no small impa- 
 tience for a whole week, the landlord resolved to break 
 ;>pen the box, and went to the magistrates of the place, 
 accompanied by witnesses. It is needless to record his 
 chagrin and mortification, when he found the box filled 
 with sand and stones. 
 
 In London, Whitney was apprehended upon the in- 
 formation of one of those abandoned females who live 
 by betraying the simple ones of their own, and by rob- 
 bing and plundering the profligate of the other sex. 
 He was committed, tried, and condemned at the follow- 
 ing sessions. The judge, before passing sentence, made 
 an excellent speech to him and the other malefactors, 
 in strong terms exhibiting the nature of their several 
 crimes ; and in particular addressed himself to Whit- 
 ney, exhorting him to a sincere repentance, as there 
 could be no hope of a pardon to him after a course of 
 so many villanies. 
 
 At the place of execution, Whitney addressed the 
 multitude in nearly the following terms : — " I have 
 been a great offender, both against God and my coun- 
 try, by transgressing all laws, both human and divine. 
 I believe there is not one here present hut has often 
 heard my name before my confinement, and seen the 
 long catalogue of my crimes, which have since been 
 made public. Why then should I pretend to vindi- 
 cate a life stained with so many enormous deeds 1 The 
 sentence passed upon me is just, and I can see the foot- 
 steps of a Providence, which, before, I had profanely 
 laughed at, in my apprehension and conviction. I 
 hope the sense which I have of these things has enabled 
 me to make my peace with Heaven, the only thing 
 which is now of any concern to me. Join in your 
 prayers with me, my dear countrymen, that God would 
 not forsake me in my last moments." Having spent a 
 few minutes in prayer, he suffered, in the thirty-fourth 
 year of his age, on the 19th of December 1694. 
 
144 
 
 TIM BUCKELEY. 
 
 
 
 Tim was reared to the useful occupation of a shoe- 
 maker, bat leaving his master, he came to London, and 
 soon found out companions suited to his disposition. 
 He and his associates frequented an alehouse at Wap- 
 ping; and one day being run short of cash, Tim asked 
 the landlord for ten shillings, which he refused. Tim 
 was so exasperated, that, along with some of his associ- 
 ates, he broke into his house, and bound him, his wife, 
 and maid. When Tim was about this operation, the 
 landlord conjured him to be favorable. " No, no, you 
 must not expect any favor from my hands, whose pro- 
 digality makes you lord it over the people here like a 
 boatswain over a ship's crew ; but I shall go to another 
 part of the town, where I will be more civilly used, 
 and spend a little of your money there." Accordingly, 
 Tim and his companions robbed the house of forty 
 pounds, three silver tankards, a silver watch, and three 
 gold rings. 
 
 Upon another day Tim was airing in Hyde-park- 
 corner, and met with Dr. Cateby, the famous mounte- 
 bank. At the words " Stand and deliver !" the doctor 
 went into a long harangue about the honesty of his 
 calling, and of the great difficulty with which he made 
 a living. Tim laughed heartily, saying, " Quacks pre- 
 tend to honesty ! there is not such a pack of cheating 
 knaves in the nation. Their impudence is intolerable 
 for deceiving honest simple people, and pretending that 
 more men were not slain at the battle of the Boyne, 
 than they have recovered from death, or beckoned 
 their souls back when they have been many leagues 
 from their bodies : therefore, deliver ! or this pistol 
 shall put a stop to your further ramblings and decep- 
 
TIM BUCKELEY. 145 
 
 tion." The doctor preferring his life to his gold, pre- 
 sented Tim with six guineas, and a watch, to show 
 him how to keep time while spending the money. 
 
 Tim wa.s once apprehended by a baker, in the cha- 
 racter of a constable, and sent to Flanders as a soldier. 
 He deserted, and returning to London, one day met 
 with the baker's wife. He presented a pistol, and de- 
 manded her money ; she exclaimed, " Is this justice or 
 conscience, sir?" " Don't tell me of justice, for I hate 
 her as much as your husband can, because her scales 
 are even ! And as for conscience, I have as little of 
 that as any baker in England, who cheats other peo- 
 ple's bellies to fill his own ! — Nay, a baker is a worse 
 rogue than a tailor ; for, whereas the latter commonly 
 pinches his cabbage from the rich, the former, by mak- 
 ing his bread too light, robs all without distinction, 
 but chiefly the poor, for which he deserves hanging 
 more than I, or any of my honest fraternity." Then, 
 taking from her eleven shillings and two gold rings, he 
 sent her home to relate her adventure to her husband. 
 
 Tim next stealing a good horse, commenced upon the 
 highway, and meeting with a pawnbroker by whom he 
 had lost some articles, he commanded him to stand and 
 deliver. The pawnbroker entreated for favor, saying 
 " that it was a very hard thing that honest people 
 could not go about their lawful business without being 
 robbed." " You talk of honesty, who live by fraud 
 and oppression ! — your shop, like the gates of hell, is 
 always open, in which you sit at the receipt of cus- 
 tom, and having got the spoils of the needy, you hang 
 them up in rank and file, like so many trophies of vic- 
 tory. To your shop all sorts of garments resort, as on 
 a pilgrimage. Thou art the treasurer of the thieves' 
 exchequer, for which purpose you keep a private 
 warehouse from whence you ship them oft wholesale, 
 or retail, according to pleasure. Nay, the poor and the 
 oppressed have often to pay their own cloth, before 
 they can receive them back by your exorbitant exac- 
 tions. Come, come, blood-sucker, open your purse- 
 strings, or this pistol shall send you where you are to 
 M 
 
146 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 go sooner or later." The poor pawnbroker did not, 
 however, wish to visit his old friend before his time ; 
 he therefore ransomed his life at the expense of twenty- 
 eight guineas, a gold watch, a silver box, and two gold 
 rings. 
 
 Upon another occasion, Tim fortunately met with 
 a stock-jobber (who had prosecuted him for felony,) 
 and robbed him of forty-eight guineas. He requested 
 something to carry him home. Tim refused, saying, 
 " I have no charity for you stock-jobbers, who rise and 
 fall like the ebbing and flowing of the tide, and whose 
 paths are as unfathomable as the ocean. The grass- 
 hopper in the Royal Exchange is an emblem of your 
 character. What ! give you something to carry you 
 home out of the paltry sum of forty-eight guineas ! I 
 won't give you a farthing." He then bade him fare- 
 well until next meeting. 
 
 Though unexpected and unwished, it was not long 
 before the stock-jobber reconnoitred Tim, and caused 
 him to be apprehended and committed to Newgate. 
 He was tried, and received sentence of death ; but ob- 
 taining a reprieve, and afterwards a pardon, he was 
 determined to be revenged of the man who would not 
 give him rest to pursue his honest employment ; he 
 therefore set fire to a country-house belonging to him. 
 To his no small chagrin, however, it was quenched 
 before much harm was done. 
 
 Tim then went to Leicestershire, broke into a house, 
 seized eighty pounds, purchased a horse, and renewed 
 his former mode of life. Thus mounted, he attacked 
 a coach in which were three gentlemen, and two foot- 
 men attending. Tim's horse being shot under him, he 
 killed one of the gentlemen and a footman, but being 
 overpowered, was committed to Nottingham gaol, and 
 suffered the due reward of murder and robbery, at the 
 age of twenty-nine, and in the year 1701. 
 
147 
 
 TOM JONES. 
 
 Tom was a native of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. His 
 father was a clothier, whose business he followed until 
 he was two-and- twenty years of age. In that period, 
 however, the prominent dispositions of his mind were 
 displayed, by extravagance, and running into debt. 
 In order, therefore, to retrieve his circumstances, he 
 went upon the highway. 
 
 Out of gratitude for his father's kindness, he com- 
 menced by robbing him of eighty pounds and a good 
 horse. Unaccustomed to such work, he rode, under 
 the impression that he was pursued and in danger of 
 being taken, no less than forty miles. Arriving in 
 Staffordshire, he attacked and robbed the stage-coach 
 of a considerable booty. During the scuffle, several 
 shots were fired at the passengers, but no injury was 
 done. 
 
 A monkey belonging to one of the passengers, being 
 tied behind the coach, was so frightened with the 
 firing, that he broke his chain, and ran for his life. At 
 night, as a countryman was coming over a gate, pug 
 leaped out of the hedge upon his back, and clung very 
 fast. The poor man, who had never seen such an ani- 
 mal, imagined that he was no less a person than the 
 devil; and when he came home, thundered at the door. 
 His wife looked out at the window, and asked him 
 what he had got. " The devil !" cried he, and en- 
 treated that she would go to the parson, and beg his 
 assistance. " Nay," quoth she, " you shall not bring 
 the devil in here. If you belong to him, I don't ; so 
 be content to go without my company." Poor Hob 
 was obliged to wait at his door until one of his neigh- 
 bors, wiser than the rest, came, and with a few apples 
 
148 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 and pears, dispossessed him ef the devil, and got him 
 for his pains. He accordingly carried him to the 
 owner, and received a suitable reward. 
 
 Tom's next adventure was with a Quaker, who for- 
 merly kept a button shop, but, being reduced in his cir- 
 cumstances, he was going down to the country to avoid 
 an arrest. In this situation he was more afraid of a 
 bailiff than a robber. Therefore, when Tom took hold 
 of him by the coat, broadbrim very gravely said, u At 
 whose suit dost thou detain me?" — "I detain thee on 
 thy own suit, and my demand is for all thy substance." 
 The Quaker having discovered his mistake, added, 
 " Truly, friend, I don't know thee, nor can I indeed 
 imagine that ever thee and I had any dealings to- 
 gether." — " You shall find then." said Jones, " that we 
 shall deal together now." He then presented his pistol. 
 " Pray, neighbor, use no violence, for if thou earnest 
 me to jail, I am undone. I have fourteen guineas 
 about me, and if that will satisfy thee, thou art wel- 
 come to take them. Here they are, and give me leave 
 to assure thee, that I have frequently stopped the mouth 
 of a bailiff with a much less sum, and made him affirm 
 to my creditors that he could not find me." Jones 
 received the money, and replied, " Friend, I am not 
 such a rogue as thou takest me to be : I am no bailiff, 
 but an honest, generous highwayman." — "I shall not 
 trouble myself," cried the Quaker, " about the distinc- 
 tion of names ; if a man takes my money from me by 
 force, it concerns me but little what he calls himself, or 
 what his pretences may be for so doing." 
 
 At another time Tom met with lord and lady Whar- 
 ton, and though they had three men attending, demand- 
 ed their charity in his usual style. His lordship said, 
 " Do you know me, sir, that you dare be so bold as 
 stop me upon the road?" — " Not I; I neither know nor 
 care who you are. I am apt to imagine that you are 
 some great man, because you speak so big ; but, be as 
 great as you will, sir, I must have you to know, that 
 there is no man upon the road so great as myself; 
 therefore, pray be quick in answering my demands, for 
 
Arthur Chambers. P. 151. 
 
ARTHUR CHAMBERS. 151 
 
 decays may prove dangerous." Tom then received two 
 hundred pounds, three diamond rings, and two gold 
 watches. 
 
 Upon another day, Tom received intelligence that a 
 gentleman was upon the road with a hundred pounds. 
 He waited upon the top of a hill to welcome his ap- 
 proach. A steward of the gentleman discovered him, 
 and suspecting his character, desired that the money 
 might he given to him, and he would ride off with it, 
 as the robber would not suspect him. This was done ; 
 Tom came forward, stopped the coach, and the gentle- 
 man gave him ten pounds. He was greatly enraged, 
 and mentioned the sum he knew the gentleman carried 
 along with him. In an instant, however, suspecting 
 the stratagem, he rode after the steward with all possi- 
 ble speed ; but the latter observing him in pursuit, in- 
 creased his pace, and reached an inn before Tom 
 could overtake him. 
 
 After many similar adventures, Tom was apprehend- 
 ed for robbing a farmer's wife. He was so habituated 
 to vice, that nothing but the gallows could arrest his 
 course, and in the forty-second year of his age he met 
 with that fate, on the 25th April 1702. 
 
 ARTHUR CHAMBERS. 
 
 Arthur Chambers was of low extraction, and desti- 
 tute of every amiable quality. From his very infancy 
 he was. addicted to pilfering; and the low circumstances 
 of his parents being unable to support his extravagan- 
 ces, he had recourse to dishonest practices. It is even 
 reported, that before he was dressed in boy's cUthes, he 
 committed several acts of theft. 
 
 The first thing which he attempted, was to learn 
 from an experienced master, all those cant words and 
 
152 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 phrases current among pickpockets, by which they dis- 
 tinguish one another. Chambers was soon an adept in 
 this new language ; and being well dressed, he was 
 introduced to the better sort of company, and took oc- 
 casion, when such opportunities offered, to rob his com- 
 panions. 
 
 In a short time he was confined in Bridewell, to 
 answer with hard labor for some small offence. Hav- 
 ing obtained his liberty, he left the town, where he 
 again begun to be suspected, and went to Cornwall. 
 His social turn gained him a reception in genteel com- 
 panies, and he became a memorable character in the 
 place. Before he left London, he provided himself 
 with a large q /antity of base crowns and haif-crowns, 
 which he uttered wherever he went. After many had 
 been deceived, strict search was made, and Chambers 
 detected. For this offence he was committed to gaol, 
 where he remained a year and a half. 
 
 As he could no longer abide in Cornwall, he re- 
 turned to London. Upon his arrival he went to an 
 alehouse, and called for a pot of beer and a slice ot 
 bread and cheese. Having refreshed himself, he 
 entered into conversation with some persons in a 
 neighboring box. The conversation turned upon the 
 superior advantages of a country life, but was insensi- 
 bly directed to that of robbery. Chambers, improving 
 the hint, regretted that no better provision was made 
 for suppressing such villanies ; for, added he, death is 
 too scarce a punishment for a man even if he robbed 
 the whole world. " But why do I talk thus?" he con- 
 tinued ; "if great offenders are suffered, well may the 
 poor and necessitous say, we must live, and where is 
 the harm of taking a few guineas from those who can 
 spare them, or who, perhaps, have robbed others of 
 them? For my own part, I look upon a dexterous 
 pickpocket as a very useful person, as he draws his 
 resources from the purses of those who would spend 
 their money in gaming, or worse. Look ye, gentle- 
 men, I can pick a pocket as well as any man in Britain, 
 and yet, though I say it, I am as honest as the best 
 
ARTHUR CHAMBERS. 153 
 
 Englishman breathing. Observe that country gentle- 
 man passing by the window there ; I will engage to 
 rob him of his watch, though it is scarcely five 
 o'clock." 
 
 A wager of ten shillings was instantly taken, and 
 Chambers hastened after the gentleman. He accosted 
 him at the extremity of Long lane, and pulling off his 
 hat, asked him if he could inform him the nearest way 
 to Knave's acre. The stranger replied that he himself 
 wished to know the way to Moorfields, which Cham- 
 bers pointed out: and while the other kept his eyes 
 fixed upon the places to which he directed him, he em- 
 braced an opportunity to rob him of his watch, and 
 hastening back to the alehouse, threw down his plun- 
 der, and claimed the wager. 
 
 He next exerted his ingenuity upon a plain country- 
 man, newly come to town. The rustic had got into 
 the company of sharpers, and stood gazing at a gam- 
 ing table. Our adventurer stepping up, tapped him on 
 the shoulder, and inquired what part of the country he 
 came from, and if he was desirous to find a place as a 
 gentleman's servant. Robin answered, that it was his 
 very errand to town, to find such a place. Chambers 
 then said that he could fit him to a hair. " I believe I 
 can afford you myself four pounds a year, standing 
 wages, and six shillings a week board wages, and all 
 cast clothes, which are none of the worst." This was 
 sufficient to make Robin almost leap out of his skin, for 
 never before had such an offer been made to him. 
 Having arranged every thing to his wish, Robin entered 
 upon his new service. He received Chambers' cloak, 
 threw it over his arm, and followed his master. Cham- 
 bers ordered a coach, and Robin being placed behind, 
 they drove off to an inn. Dinner being ordered, Robin 
 sat down with his master, and made a hearty meal, 
 the former in the mean while instructing him in all the 
 tricks of the town^and inculcating the necessity of his 
 being always upon his guard. He informed him also, 
 that the servants of the inn would be requesting him to 
 join in play at cards, and that he was in danger of 
 
154 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 being imposed upon ; therefore, if he had any money 
 upon him, it would be proper to give it to him, and lie 
 would receive it back when necessary. Robin, accord- 
 ingly, pulled out his purse, and delivered all that he 
 had, with which Chambers paid his dinner, and went 
 off, leaving Robin to shift for himself, and to lament 
 the loss of his money and his new master. 
 
 The next adventure of Chambers was directed against 
 the innkeeper of the Greyhound, St. Alban's. His wife 
 was rather handsome, and exceedingly facetious; and 
 Chambers being often there, was on terms of the great- 
 est familiarity with the household. Directing his steps 
 thither, and pretending to have been attacked by three 
 men near the inn, he went in with his clothes all be- 
 smeared. The travellers who were in the inn condoled 
 with him on his misfortune, and gave him a change of 
 clothes until his own should be cleaned. To make 
 amends to himself for this sad disaster, he invited six of 
 his fellow-travellers, with the landlord and his wife, to 
 supper. The glass circulated pretty freely, and the 
 wife entertained them with several appropriate songs. 
 Chambers was careful that her glass never remained 
 long empty. In a short time he saw with pleasure that 
 all his companions, with the solitary exception of the 
 landlord, were sunk in the arms of sleep, and he pro- 
 posed that they should be conveyed to bed ; whereupon 
 two or three stout fellows came to perform that office. 
 Chambers was so obliging as to lend his assistance, but 
 took care that their money and watches should pay 
 him for his trouble. 
 
 Left alone with the landlord, he proposed that they 
 should have an additional bottle. Another succeeded 
 before the landlord was in a condition to be conveyed 
 to rest. In aiding the servants with the corpulent inn- 
 keeper, he discovered the geography of his bedroom, 
 and finding that the door was directly opposite to his 
 own, he retired, not to rest, but to plot and to perfect 
 his villany. 
 
 When he was convinced that the wine would work 
 its full effect upon the deluded pair, he revisited the 
 
ARTHUR CHAMBERS. 155 
 
 bedchamber, waited some time, and extracted what 
 property he could most conveniently carry away ; by 
 the dawn of day dressed himself in the best suit of 
 clothes which his bottle companions could afford, called 
 for the horse of the person whose clothes he now wore, 
 left two guineas with the waiter to pay his bill, gave 
 half-a-crown to the ostler, and rode off for London. 
 
 His first enterprise after his arrival was attacking an 
 Italian merchant upon the Exchange. He took him 
 aside, eagerly inquired what goods he had to dispose 
 of, and, entering into conversation, one of Chambers' 
 accomplices approaching, joined the conversation. 
 Meanwhile, our adventurer found means to extract 
 from his pocket a large purse of gold and his gold 
 watch, which he delivered to his accomplice. Not 
 satisfied with his first success, and observing a silk 
 handkerchief suspended from his pocket, he walked 
 behind him to seize it, but was detected in the act, and 
 kept fast hold of by the merchant, who cried out lusti- 
 ly, "Thief! thief!" In this dilemma, Chambers' 
 accomplice ran to the crier, and requested him to give 
 public proclamation, that if any body had lost a purse 
 of gold, upon giving proper information it would be 
 restored. With the expectation of finding his money 
 again, the merchant let go his hold ; and, in the crowd, 
 Chambers and his friends retired with their booty. 
 
 But Chambers was now resolved to perform an 
 action worthy of his talents. He hired the first floor 
 of a house, and agreed with the landlord for 14s. a 
 week. Having, in the first instance, been mistaken for 
 a man of fortune, both from his appearance and style 
 of living, a mutual confidence was gradually estab- 
 lished. When his plot was matured, he one day 
 entered with a very pensive and sorrowful look the 
 apartment of his landlord, who anxiously inquired the 
 cause of his great uneasiness; when Chambers, with 
 tears in his eyes, informed him, that he had just re- 
 turned from Hampstead, where he had witnessed the 
 death of a beloved brother, who had left him sole heir, 
 with an express injunction to convey his dear remains 
 
156 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 to Westminster Abbey. He therefore entreated the 
 favor of being allowed to bring his brother's remains at 
 a certain hour to his house, that from thence they might 
 be conveyed to the place of their destination, which 
 very reasonable request was readily granted by his 
 unsuspecting landlord. 
 
 Chambers went off the next morning, leaving word, 
 that the corpse would be there at six o'clock in the 
 evening. At the appointed hour, the hearse, with six 
 horses, arrived at the door. An elegant coffin, with six 
 gilded handles, was carried up stairs, and placed upon 
 the dining-room table, and the horses were conveyed 
 by the men to a stable in the neighborhood. They in- 
 formed the landlord, that Chambers was detained on 
 business, and would probably sleep that night in the 
 Strand. 
 
 That artful rogue was, however, confined in the 
 coffin, in which air-holes had been made, the screw- 
 nails left unfixed, his clothes all on, with a winding- 
 sheet wrapped over them, and his face blanched with 
 flour. All the family were now gone to bed, except 
 the maid-servants. Chambers arose from his confine- 
 ment, went down stairs to the kitchen wrapped in his 
 winding-sheet, sat down, and stared the maid in the 
 face, who, overwhelmed with fear, cried out, "A ghost ! 
 a ghost !" and ran up stairs to her master's room, who 
 chid her unreasonable fears, and requested her to return 
 to bed, and compose herself. She, however, obstinate- 
 ly refused, and remained in the room. 
 
 In a short time, however, in stalked the stately 
 ghost, took his seat, and conferred a complete sweat 
 and a mortal fright upon all three who were present. 
 Retiring from his station when he deemed it conve- 
 nient, he continued, by the moving of the doors, and 
 the noise raised through the house, to conceal his 
 design : in the mean time, he went down stairs, opened 
 the doors to his accomplices, who assisted in carrying 
 off the plate, and every thing which could be removed, 
 not even sparing the kitchen utensils. The maid was 
 the first to venture from her room in the morning, and 
 
STEPHEN BUNCE. 157 
 
 to inform her master and mistress of what had hap- 
 pened, who, more than the night before, chid her 
 credulity in believing that a ghost could rob a house, 
 or carry away any article out of it. In a little time, 
 however, the landlord was induced to rise from his 
 bed, and to move down stairs, and found, to his asto- 
 nishment and chagrin, that the whole of his plate, and 
 almost the whole of his movables, were gone, for 
 which he had only received in return an empty coffin. 
 
 A great many other stories of the like nature are 
 lold of Chambers ; and it is well known, that for the 
 few years he was permitted, by singular good fortune, 
 to go at large, he committed as many artful and daring 
 actions as were ever accomplished by one man. 
 
 At length, however, one Jack Hall, a chimney- 
 sweeper, being apprehended, to save his own life, 
 made himself an evidence against Chambers, who, 
 being cast upon that information, was, with two other 
 notorious offenders, executed at Tyburn, in 1703, in 
 the twenty-eighth year of his age. 
 
 STEPHEN BUNCE. 
 
 In the plain but strong phrase, this man was born a 
 thief. Scarcely could his hand carry away the pro- 
 perty of others, when he engaged in this nefarious 
 trade. While yet a child, he was frequently amusing 
 himself with the children of a charcoal man who lived 
 in the neighborhood, and would even then fill his pock- 
 ets with the charcoal, and sell it to a woman that kept 
 an apple-stall ior codlings. One day he wished to try 
 his ingenuity upon the good woman, and requested to 
 have some codlings beforehand, promising to pay them 
 with his next charcoal. But though she could pur- 
 chase from him that which she knew he had stolen, 
 yet she was not disposed to give him any credit. 
 
 N 7 
 
158 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 Stephen was highly enraged that his fidelity should 
 be called in question by the old woman, and determin- 
 ed upon revenge; so stealing a larger quantity of char- 
 coal than usual, he filled the empty parts with powder, 
 and sealed them with black wax. The old woman 
 kindled a fire of them, and it being a very cold frosty 
 night, sat down before the fire in the usual manner, 
 to warm her starving body. But scarcely had the 
 heat begun to operate, when the powder catching fire, 
 off flew the kettle from the grate, the codlings and the 
 water sprang about the old woman's ears, and, in the 
 midst of fire and smoke, she cried out in the most pite- 
 ous manner, which brought a great mob about her to 
 assist her in the hour of misfortune and distress. For- 
 tunately, however, the chief injury that the old woman 
 received was a hole burnt in her gown, a scalding to 
 her chin, and the trouble of picking up her codlings. 
 
 But Stephen was not long to remain in correspon- 
 dence with apple wives and such low gentry. Arrived 
 at the years of a stripling, he went into a coffee-house, 
 and called for a dish of tea. Meanwhile, rustling 
 among the newspapers, he picked up the lid of a silver 
 box, and paying for his tea, went and instantly got his 
 own initials engraven upon it. Then, with the greatest 
 assurance, he went back, saying, " Gentlemen, have 
 not I left the bottom of my tobacco-box ?" Thereupon 
 rummaging among the papers, he found it, exclaiming, 
 as he put the lid on, "Oh, here it is !" Upon this the 
 owner claimed it as his property, but Stephen impu- 
 dently showing his cipher upon it, claimed and retained 
 it as his own. 
 
 At one time Bunce was benighted at Branyard in 
 Hertfordshire, and being destitute of money, was at 
 infinite loss how to proceed. But a fertile invention is 
 a necessary qualification in a deceiver, and Stephen's 
 was acquiring considerable strength. He called at the 
 parson's door, and requested the maid to tell her master 
 that a stranger wished to have the honor of speaking 
 with him. When the clergyman made his appearance, 
 Stephen, in an eloquent and affecting tone, informed 
 
STEPHEN BUNCE. 159 
 
 him that he was a poor student from Oxford, going 
 home to his friends, and as he was benighted, he en- 
 treated that he would afford him the friendly aid of his 
 roof for one night. The generous-hearted parson, 
 pleased with his appearance and pitying his distress, 
 kindly received him and entertained him according to 
 the best of his household. 
 
 When Stephen was taking his leave for the night, 
 he, with no small degree of modesty and respect, re- 
 quested that he might be permitted to give the parson 
 a sermon in the morning, the next day being Sunday. 
 As, in general, no clergyman has any great objection to 
 a day of rest, the parson willingly accepted of his 
 offered services. The morning came, and the hour of 
 divine service being arrived, the young student was 
 equipped in the parson's gown and cassock, and as it 
 was about a mile to the church, he was mounted on 
 the parson's horse, while the latter, with his wife and 
 family, went a nearer path through the fields. When 
 his reverence came to the church, every one was 
 scraping and bowing, and inquiring why he was with- 
 out his canonical robes on the day of sacred duty. He 
 soon relieved their anxiety, by informing them that a 
 young gentleman of the university of Oxford would be 
 there presently, and would preach for him that day. 
 They waited for some time, then commenced divine 
 service; the prayers were now ended, and the last 
 psalm sung, but no preacher appeared. In short, not 
 to detain our readers with a long narrative, they waited 
 until noon, — the congregation went home without a 
 sermon, — and the parson without his robes and horse, 
 while Bunce was by this time far advanced on his 
 journey, employing the horse to carry a thief instead 
 of a clergyman. 
 
 Upon another day, as Stephen was going about 
 seeking whom he might render lighter on their journey, 
 he saw a gentleman well mounted upon a gelding, and 
 going into the road along where lie was to ride, he laid 
 himself all along the ground, with his ear to it. When 
 the gentleman came up to him, he asked the reason of 
 
160 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 such unusual conduct. Stephen held up his hand to 
 him, signifying his desire that he should be silent; but 
 the gentleman, being of a hasty temper, cried, " What 
 the plague are you listening to 7" Upon this Stephen 
 sat up, saying, "Oh, dear sir, I have often heard great 
 talk of the fairies, but I could never have the faith to 
 believe that there was ever any such thing in nature, 
 till now, in this very place, I hear such a ravishing 
 and melodious harmony of all kinds of music, that it 
 is enough to charm me to sit here, if possible, to all 
 eternity." 
 
 Curiosity, that active principle in the human mind, 
 inclined the gentleman to alight from his horse to hear 
 the enchanting music. Having reached the ground, he 
 gave his gelding to Stephen to hold during his interview 
 with the fairies. Then, applying his ear to the ground, 
 he said, "I can hear nothing." Bunce desired him to 
 turn the other ear. This being done, and his face 
 averted from him, Bunce leaped into his saddle, and 
 rode off with his gelding at full speed, until he came to 
 Romford. Supposing that the owner would have some 
 particular inn where he put up his horse, and therefore 
 that the horse would know that place, he went after 
 the horse at a small distance. 
 
 He no sooner appeared than the ostler, who was 
 standing at the door, exclaimed, "Master! master! 
 here 's Mr. Bartlet's horse come without him." Ste- 
 phen, having discovered the name of the owner of the 
 gelding, said to the innkeeper, " Mr. Bartlet being en- 
 gaged with some gentlemen at play in Ingatestone, he 
 requests you to send him fifteen guineas, and to keep 
 his horse in pledge in the mean time, until he comes 
 himself in the evening." " Ay, ay," replied the inn- 
 keeper, " a' hundred guineas, if he stood in need of 
 them." So Bunce, having received the fifteen guineas, 
 piosecuted his journey to London. In a few hours, 
 Mr. Bartlet came puffing and blowing, and covered 
 with perspiration and dust. The innkeeper accosted 
 him, saying, "Oh! dear sir, why need you have sent 
 your gelding, and so put yourself to the trouble of 
 
STEPHEN BUNCE. 16l 
 
 coming in this sultry weather on foot, for the small 
 sum of fifteen guineas, when you might have com- 
 manded ten times as much without a pledge?" — 
 "What!" cried the gentleman, "has the fellow, then, 
 brought my gelding hither? A villain! he was pretty 
 honest in that ; but I find the rogue has made me pay 
 fifteen guineas for hearing one tune of the fairies." 
 
 Bunce was an industrious man, and frequented the 
 billiard-tables, the cockpits, and every place where he 
 thought that a penny would come in his way. Though 
 his funds often afforded him the means of reformation, 
 he naturally hated virtue and honesty ; he, therefore, 
 with redoubled keenness, pursued his depredations. 
 Once, upon foot, he met with a butcher between Pad- 
 dington and London, who, being a strong, lusty fellow, 
 was not disposed to give his contribution to Bunce 
 without an exchange of blows. The cudgelling com- 
 menced, and, though the butcher acted his part well, 
 yet. Bunce was victorious. The conqueror, on search- 
 ing for his spoil, found the immense sum of fourpence 
 in his pockets. "Is this all you have got?" "And 
 too much to lose," said the butcher. "You villain !" 
 cried Bunce, " if you 'd fight at this rate for a groat, 
 what a plague would you have done if you 'd had more 
 money?" 
 
 This was rather an unfortunate adventure, to have 
 lost so much time and given so many blows for so lit- 
 tle ; but, returning home, he observed a goldsmith, who 
 was a far richer prize than a butcher, telling a large 
 sum of money in his shop. His eyes instantly spar- 
 kled, and his invention awoke. He went into an old 
 shop in the vicinity, and purchased one farthing's 
 worth of salt. Then, hastening into the goldsmith's 
 shop, he threw the whole in his eyes; so that while he 
 was rubbing his peepers, and stamping with rage, 
 Bunce went off with about fifty pounds — a tolerable 
 return for the outlay of a farthing. 
 
 It is an old proverb, " Lightly come, lightly go." 
 The same evening, having gone to recreate himself in 
 the company of certain females, he was robbed of 
 
162 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 twenty pounds, when, in the most furious manner, 
 though to no purpose, he vented his imprecations 
 against all the sex, asserting, that " every woman was 
 a crocodile at ten, a fury at thirty, and a witch at four- 
 score." 
 
 Under the influence of vexatious disappointment, 
 Bunce soon spent the remainder of his fifty pounds, 
 and stern necessity again impelled him to action. 
 Along with one of his trusty companions, he went into 
 a wollen-draper's shop, just as the good man was about 
 to shut up ; and, while he was cheapening a remnant 
 of cloth, his companion stole the key of the shop from 
 its usual resting place; upon which they both went off 
 without making a purchase. Favored by the darkness 
 of the night, they returned, and, without interruption 
 or difficulty, extracted from the shop cloth to the 
 amount of eighty pounds. 
 
 Bunce having been afterwards, by an order of the 
 court, sent a soldier into Spain, while there, he and 
 his comrades were one day in great want of victuals, 
 and, having loitered all day about the market-place of 
 Barcelona without finding any thing to remove their 
 hunger, they discovered, in the evening, a countryman 
 returning home on an ass. They followed him, and, 
 having to ascend a steep hill, he alighted and led the 
 ass. Bunce, with his companion, slipped quietly for- 
 ward, and dexterously removing the bridle from the 
 ass's head to his own, his comrade went off with the 
 ass, and Bunce trudged after the man upon all-fours. 
 Arrived at the top of the hill, he looked around, and, to 
 hi? great consternation and amazement, saw his ass 
 transformed into a man. 
 
 Stephen, observing his surprise, said, " Dear master, 
 don't be troubled at this strange alteration that you see 
 in your beast; for, indeed, I was no ass, as you sup- 
 posed me, but a man, real flesh and blood, as you 
 yourself are : but you must know, that it being my 
 misfortune to commit a sin against the Virgin Mary, 
 she resented it so heinously, that she transformed me 
 into the likeness of an ass for set en years ; and now, 
 
STEPHEN BUNCE. 163 
 
 the time being expired, I resume my proper shape 
 again, and am at my own disposal. However, sir, 1 
 return you many thanks for your goodness towards 
 me; for since I have been in your custody, you have 
 put me to no more labor than what I, you, or any other 
 ass, might be able to bear." 
 
 The countryman was greatly surprised at the rela- 
 tion, but was well satisfied, on receiving the grateful 
 thanks of his former ass for the kind treatment he had 
 given him during the period of his degradation. Ste- 
 phen returned to his comrade, who had made the ass 
 undergo another transmigration into money, so that 
 these two hungry sharks hastened to set their teeth at 
 work, lest they should lose the power of action by long 
 disuse. Meanwhile, the countryman returned to town 
 to purchase another ass to carry him home. But, to 
 nis astonishment, the first thing he met with was his 
 own individual ass. Stepping up to the animal, he 
 said, " Oh ! I see that you have committed another sin 
 against the Virgin Mary, but I shall take care how I 
 ■>uy you again." 
 
 Bunce was married to a victualler's daughter in Ply- 
 nouth, and for some time lived with her with tolerable 
 regularity, making the table roar, and the bowl to 
 foam, and entertaining all the merry beaux of the town, 
 until one of the tars offended Bunce by his politeness. 
 Upon this, he left his young wife, and plunged into all 
 those scenes of debauchery which are the usual attend- 
 ants of the acquisition of money by unlawful means. 
 In the progress of time his manners became so aban- 
 doned and profligate, and his conversation so loose, 
 that he was the abhorrence of all decent persons, and a 
 disgrace to human nature. He was at last detected in 
 his wickedness, and suffered at Tyburn in the year 
 1707, in company with Dick Low and Jack Hall, 
 whose histories are not of sufficient interest to warrant 
 their insertion in these pages 
 
164 
 
 JACK OVET. 
 
 jack Uvet was born at Nottingham, and, after serv- 
 ing an apprenticeship to a shoemaker, for some time 
 gained his bread by that industrious and useful em- 
 ployment : but his licentious dispositions inclining him 
 to profligate and abandoned company, he soon took to 
 the highway. 
 
 After having purchased a horse, pistols, and every 
 necessary utensil proper to his projected profession, he 
 rode towards London, and on the way robbed a gentle- 
 man of twenty pounds. That gentleman, however, 
 not destitute of courage, and unwilling to part with his 
 money, told Ovet, that if he had not taken him una- 
 wares, he would not so easily have plundered him of 
 his property. The son of Crispin was not destitute of 
 the essential qualifications of his new profession ; he, 
 therefore, replied, that he had already ventured his life 
 for his twenty pounds; "but," continued he, "here's 
 your money again, and whoever is the better man, let 
 him win it and wear it." The proposal being agreed 
 to, and both employing their swords, the gentleman 
 fell, and Ovet had the money. 
 
 But having now stained his hands with blood, it was 
 not long before he killed another man in a quarrel. 
 He, however, escaped from justice, and continued his 
 depredations. One day, being greatly in want of mo- 
 ney, and meeting one Rogers with some pack-horses, 
 he turned one of them off the way, opened the pack, 
 and extracted about two hundred and eighty guineas, 
 with three dozen of silver knives, forks, and spoons. 
 Then, tying the horse to a tree, he made off with the 
 spoil 
 
 Another time, Jack Ovet, drinking at the Star inn, 
 in the Strand, overheard a soap-boiler contriving with 
 
Jack Oeet. P. 164. 
 
JACK OVET. 167 
 
 a carrier how he should send a hundred pounds to a 
 friend in the country. At length, it was concluded 
 upon to put the money into a barrel of soap ; which 
 project was mightily approved of by the carrier, who 
 answered, " If any rogues should rob my wagon, 
 (which they never did but once,) the devil must be in 
 them if they look for any money in the soap-barrel." 
 Accordingly, the money and soap were brought to the 
 inn, and next morning the carrier going out of town, 
 Jack overtook him in the afternoon, and commanding 
 him to stop, or otherwise he would shoot him and his 
 horses too, he was obliged to obey the word of com- 
 mand. Then cried the honest highwayman, " I must 
 make bold to borrow a little money out of your wagon ; 
 therefore, if you have any, direct me to it, that I may 
 not lose any time, which you know is always pre- 
 cious." The carrier told him, he had nothing but 
 cumbersome goods in his wagon, that he knew of; 
 however, if he would not believe him, he might search 
 every box and bundle there, if he pleased. 
 
 Ovet soon got into the wagon, and threw all the 
 boxes and bundles about, till, at last, he came to the 
 soap-barrel, which feeling somewhat heavy, said he to 
 the carrier, " What do you do with this nasty commo- 
 dity in your wagon ? I '11 fling it away." So throw- 
 ing it on the ground, the hoops burst, out flew the head, 
 and the soap spreading abroad, the bag appeared : 
 then jumping out of the wagon and taking it up, said 
 he again, " Is not he that sells this soap a cheating ras- 
 cal, to put a bag of lead into it to make the barrel weigh 
 heavy? If I knew where he lived, I 'd go and tell him 
 my mind. However, that he may not succeed in his 
 roguery, I '11 take it and sell it at the next house I 
 come to, for it will wet one's whistle to the tune of two 
 or three shillings." 
 
 He was going to ride away, when the carrier cried 
 after him, " Hold, hold, sir ! that is not lead in the 
 bag ; it is a hundred pounds, for which (if you take it 
 away) I must be accountable." "No, no!" replied 
 Jack Ovet, " this cannot be money ; but if it is, tell the 
 
168 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 owner that I will be answerable for it if he will come 
 tome." "Where, sir," said the carrier, "may one 
 find you?" "Why, truly," replied Jack, "that is a 
 question soon asked, but not so easily to be answered ; 
 the best direction 1 can give is, it is likely that you 
 may find me in a gaol before night, and then, perhaps, 
 you may have again what I have taken from you, and 
 forty pounds to boot." 
 
 Another time Jack Ovet, meeting with the Worcester 
 stage-coach on the road, in which were several young 
 gentlewomen, he robbed them all; but one of them 
 being a very handsome person, he was struck with 
 admiration, and when he took her money from her, 
 said, " Madam, cast not your eyes down, neither cover 
 your face with those modest blushes ; your charms 
 have softened my temper, and I am no longer the man 
 I was ; what I have taken from you (through mere 
 necessity at present) is only borrowed ; for as no object 
 on earth ever had such an effect on me as you, assure 
 yourself, that, if you please to tell me where I may 
 direct to you, I will, upon honor, make good your loss 
 to the very utmost." The young gentlewoman told 
 him where he might send to her ; and then parting, it 
 was not above a week after that Jack sent a letter to 
 the young lady, who had gained such an absolute con- 
 quest over his soul that his mind now ran as much 
 upon love as robbery. 
 
 Unfortunately, however, the sentimental attachment 
 of our too susceptible highwayman was doomed to suf- 
 fer a defeat ; and still more unfortunately, he was quite 
 as unsuccessful in his profession; for, committing a 
 robbery in Leicestershire, where his comrade was killed 
 m the attempt, he was closely pursued by the county, 
 apprehended, and sent to gaol ; and at the next Leices- 
 ter assizes condemned. Whilst under sentence of 
 death, he seemed to feel no remorse at all for his wick- 
 edness, nor in the least to repent of the blood of two 
 persons, which he had shed. So being brought to the 
 gallows, on Wednesday the fifth of May, 1708, he was 
 mstly hanged, in the thirty-second year of his age. 
 
169 
 
 TOM DORBEL. 
 
 This robber was bred a glover ; but before he had 
 served one half of his time, ran off from his master, 
 and coming to London, soon became acquainted with 
 men of dispositions similar to his own. About the age 
 of seventeen, Tom ventured to appear upon the high- 
 way, but was outwitted in his first attempt. 
 
 Meeting a Welshman, he demanded Taffy's money, 
 or he would take his life. The Welshman said, " Hur 
 has no money of hur own, but has threescore pounds 
 of hur master's money ; but, Cot's blood ! hur must not 
 give hur master's money, — what would hur master 
 then say for hur doing so ?" Tom replied, " You must 
 not put me off with your cant; for money I want, and 
 money I will have, let it be whose it will, or expect to 
 be shot through the head." The Welshman then deli- 
 vered the money, saying, " What hur gives you is none 
 of hur own ; and that hur master may not think hur 
 has spent hur money, hur requests you to be so kind 
 as to shoot some holes through hur coat-lappets, that 
 hur master may see hur was robbed." So suspending 
 his coat upon a tree, Tom fired his pistol through it, 
 Taffy exclaiming, " Gots splatter a-nails ! this is a pret- 
 ty pounce ; pray give hur another pounce for hur mo- 
 ney !" Tom fired another shot through his coat. " By 
 St. Davy, this is a better pounce than the other ! pray 
 give hur one pounce more !" t "I have never another 
 pounce left," cried Tom. "Why then," replied the 
 Welshman, "hur has one pounce left for hur, and if 
 hur will not give hur hur money again, hur will 
 pounce hur through hur body." Dorbel very reluc- 
 tantly but quietly returned the money, and was thank- 
 ful that he was allowed to depart. 
 
 But this narrow escape did not deter Dorbel, and ho 
 O 
 
170 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 continued his villanies for the space of five years. It 
 happened, however, that a gentleman's son was taken 
 fur robbing on the highway, and as he had been for- 
 merly pardoned, he now despaired of obtaining mercy 
 a second time. Tom undertook, for the sum of five 
 hundred pounds, to bring him off. The one half was 
 paid in hand, and the other half was to be paid imme- 
 diately the deliverance was effected. When the young 
 gentleman came upon his trial, he was found guilty ; 
 but just as the judge was about to pass sentence, Tom 
 cried out, u Oh ! what a sad thing it is to shed innocent 
 blood ! Oh ! what a sad thing it is to shed innocent 
 blood !" And continuing to reiterate the expression, 
 he was apprehended, and the judge interrogating him 
 what he meant by such an expression, he said, " May 
 it please your lordship, it is a very hard thing for a 
 man to die wrongfully ; but one may see how hard- 
 mouthed some people are, by the witnesses swearing 
 that this gentleman now at the bar robbed them on the 
 highway at such a time, when indeed, my lord, 1 was 
 the person that committed that robbery." 
 
 Accordingly. Tom was taken into custody, and the 
 young gentleman liberated. He was brought to trial 
 at the following assizes ; and being asked, whether he 
 was guilty or not, he pleaded, not guilty ! " Not 
 guilty!" replied the judge; why, did not you at the 
 last assizes, when I was here, own yourself guilty of 
 such a robbery ?" I don't know," said Tom, " how 
 far I was guilty then, but upon my word, I am not 
 guilty now ; therefore, if any person can accuse me of 
 committing such a robbery, I desire they may prove 
 the same." No witness appearing, he was acquitted. 
 
 Tom, living at such an extravagant rate in the pri- 
 son, had scarcely any part of the five hundred pounds 
 remaining when he obtained his liberty ; therefore, en- 
 deavoring to recruit his funds, by robbing the duke of 
 Norfolk near Salisbury, his horse was shot, and he 
 himself taken, and condemned at the next assizes. 
 While under sentence, he found a lawyer who engaged, 
 for the sum of fifty guineas, to obtain his pardon. He 
 
TOM DORBEL. 171 
 
 accordingly rode to London, was successful, and just 
 arrived in time with the pardon, when Dorbel was 
 about to be thrown off, — having rode so hard that his 
 horse immediately dropped down dead. Such, how- 
 ever, was Tom's ingratitude, that he refused to pay the 
 lawyer, alleging, that any obligation given by a man 
 under sentence of death was not valid. 
 
 Dorbel was so much alarmed upon his narrow escape 
 from a violent death, that he resolved to abandon the 
 collecting trade, and obtained a situation in several 
 families as a footman. He also served six or seven 
 years with a lady in Ormond street, who had a brother, 
 a merchant in Bristol, whose only daughter, a girl six- 
 teen years of age, prevailed upon her father to allow 
 her to come to London to perfect her education. Dor- 
 bel being a person in whom her aunt thought she could 
 place unlimited confidence, was sent to convey the 
 young lady to London. In the last stage he was left 
 alone with her, when the miscreant first shockingly 
 abused her, then robbed her of her gold watch, diamond 
 ring, jewels to the amount of a hundred pounds, and 
 cutting a hole in the back of the coach, escaped, leaving 
 the young lady in a swoon. It was with difficulty she 
 recovered, to inform her relations how she had been 
 treated. Her mother hastened to town to see her, and 
 after speaking a few words to her, the poor girl breath- 
 ed her last. The disconsolate father soon after lost his 
 senses. 
 
 Dorbel was pursued in different directions, and ap- 
 prehended just after he had robbed a gentleman of 
 three pounds five shillings. He was tried, and con- 
 demned to be executed and hung in chains; which 
 well-merited sentence was put in force against this 
 hardened villain, on the 23d of March, 1708. 
 
172 
 
 DICK ADAMS. 
 
 The parents of this worthless fellow lived in Glou- 
 cestershire, and gave him an education suited to his 
 station. Leaving the country, and coming to London, 
 the abode of the most distinguished virtue as well as of 
 the most consummate villany, he was introduced into 
 the service of a great duchess at St. James', and 
 stayed there for two years. He was at last dismissed 
 for improper conduct; but while he remained there, he 
 had obtained a general key which opened the lodgings 
 in St. James'. Accordingly, he went to a mercer, and 
 desired him to send, with all speed, a parcel of the best 
 brocades, satins, and silks, for his duchess, that she 
 might select some for an approaching drawing-room. 
 Having often gone on a similar errand, the mercer in- 
 stantly complied. His servant, and a porter to carry 
 the parcels, accompanied Dick, and when arrived at 
 the gate of some of the lodgings, he said, " Let 's see 
 the pieces at once, for my duchess is just now at leisure 
 to look at them." So receiving the parcel, he conveyed 
 it down a tack stair, and went clear off. After waiting 
 with great impatience for two or three hours, the porter 
 and the man returned home, much lighter than when 
 they came out. 
 
 About a month after, one evening when Dick had 
 been taking his glass pretty freely, he unfortunately 
 came by the mercer's shop, while the mercer was 
 standing at the door ; the latter recollected and instantly 
 seized him, saying, " Oh sir, have I caught you ! you 
 are a fine spark indeed ! to cheat me out of two hun- 
 dred pounds' worth of goods ! but before I part with 
 you, I shall make you pay dearly for them !" Adams 
 was not a little surprised at being so unexpectedly 
 
DICK ADAMS. 173 
 
 taken; but instantly seeing the bishop of London com- 
 ing up in his carriage, he said to the mercer, " I must 
 acknowledge that I have committed a crime to which I 
 was forced by extreme necessity ; but I see my uncle, 
 the bishop of London, coming this way in his coach ; 
 therefore, I hope that you '11 be so civil as not to raise 
 any hubbub of a mob about me, by which I should be 
 exposed and utterly undone : I '11 go speak to his lord- 
 ship about the matter, if you please to step with me ; 
 and I '11 engage he shall make you satisfaction for the 
 damage I have done you." 
 
 The mercer, eager to receive his money, and deeming 
 this proposal a better method than sending him to gaol, 
 consented. Adams went boldly up, and desiring the 
 coachman to stop, requested a few words of his lord- 
 ship. Seeing him in the dress of a gentleman, he was 
 pleased to listen to him, upon which Adams said, 
 " Begging your lordship's pardon for my presumption, 
 I make bold to acquaint your reverence that the gen- 
 tleman standing behind me is an eminent mercer, keep- 
 ing house hard by, and is a very upright, godly man ; 
 but being a great reader of books of divinity, especially 
 polemical pieces, he has met therein with some intri- 
 cate cases, which very much trouble him, and his con- 
 science cannot be at rest until his doubts and scruples 
 are cleared about them; I humbly beg, therefore, that 
 your lordship would vouchsafe him the honor of giving 
 him some ease before he runs utterly to despair." 
 
 The bishop, always ready to assist any person trou- 
 bled with scruples of conscience, requested Adams to 
 bring his friend to him the following day: " But," said 
 Adams, deferentially, " it will be more satisfactory to 
 the poor man, if your lordship will speak to him your- 
 self." Upon which the bishop bowing to the mercer, 
 the latter approached the coach, when the bishop said, 
 " The gentleman has informed me of all the matter 
 about you, and if you please to give yourself the trou- 
 ble of coming to my house at Fulham, I will satisfy 
 you in every point." The mercer made many grateful 
 
174 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 bows, and taking Adams to a tavern, gave him a good 
 entertainment. 
 
 The next morning Adams waited upon the mercer, 
 who was making out his bill to present to the bishop, 
 and pretending that his coming in haste to attend him 
 to the bishop's house had made him forget to bring 
 money with him, entreated that he would grant him 
 the loan of a guinea, and put it down in the bill. They 
 then went off to wait upon the bishop at the time ap- 
 pointed. After being regaled in the parlor with a bottle 
 of wine, the mercer was introduced to the bishop, who 
 addressed him, saying, " I understand that you have 
 been greatly troubled of late ; I hope that you are better 
 now, sir ?" The mercer answered, " My trouble is 
 much abated, since your lordship has been pleased to 
 order me to wait upon you." So pulling out his 
 pocket-book, he presented his lordship with a bill con- 
 taining several articles, including a guinea of borrowed 
 money, amounting in all to two hundred and three 
 pounds nineteen shillings and tenpence. 
 
 His lordship, staring upon the bill, and examining 
 its contents, said, "What is the meaning of all this? 
 The gentleman last night might very well say your 
 conscience could not be at rest, and I wonder why it 
 should, when you bring a bill to me of which I know 
 nothing." " Your lordship," said the mercer, bowing 
 and scraping, " was pleased last night to say, that you 
 would satisfy me to-day." " Yes," replied the prelate, 
 " and so I would with respect to what the gentleman 
 told me ; who said that you, being much troubled about 
 some points of religion, desired to be resolved therein, 
 and, in order thereto, I appointed you to come to-day." 
 "Truly, your lordship's nephew told me otherwise; 
 for he said you would pay me this bill of parcels, which, 
 upon my word, he had of me, and in a very clandestine 
 manner too, if I were to tell your lordship all the truth: 
 but out of respect to your honor, I will not disgrace 
 your nephew." " My nephew ! he is none of my 
 nephew ! I never, to my knowledge, saw the gentle- 
 man in my life before !" 
 
DICK ADAMS. 175 
 
 Dick not long after went into the life-guards, but as 
 his pay would not support his extravagance, he some- 
 times collected upon the highway. Along with some 
 of his companions* upon the road, they robbed a gentle- 
 man of a gold watch and a purse of a hundred and 
 eight pounds. Not content with his booty. Adams 
 went after the gentleman, saying, " Sir, you have got 
 a very fine coat on ; I must make bold to exchange 
 with you." As the gentleman rode along, he thought 
 he heard something making a noise in his pocket, and 
 examining it, to his great joy he found his watch and 
 all his money, which Adams in his hurry had forgot to 
 remove out of the pocket of his own coat when he ex- 
 changed with the gentleman. But when Adams and 
 his associates came to an inn, and sat down to examine 
 their booty, to their unspeakable chagrin they found 
 that all was gone. 
 
 Adams and his companions went out that very same 
 day to repair their loss, and attacked the stage-coach, 
 in which were several women, with whom, irritated by 
 their recent misfortune, they were very rough and 
 urgent. While Dick was searching the pockets of one 
 of the women, she said, " Have you no pity or compas- 
 sion on our sex? Certainly, you have neither Chris- 
 tianity, nor conscience, nor religion, in you !" " Right, 
 we have not much Christianity nor conscience in us : 
 but, for my part, you shall presently find a little reli- 
 gion in me." So falling next upon her jewels and ear- 
 rings, "Indeed, madam," exclaimed Adams, "sup- 
 posing you to be an Egyptian, I must beg the favor of 
 you, being a Jew, to borrow your jewels and ear-rings, 
 according as my forefathers were commanded by 
 Moses;" and having robbed the ladies to the amount 
 of two hundred pounds in money and goods, allowed 
 them to proceed. After a course of depredations. Dick, 
 in robbing a man between London and Brentford, was 
 so closely pursued by the person who was robbed, and 
 a neighbor whom he fortunately met upon the road, 
 that in a little time afterwards he was apprehended, 
 carried before a magistrate, committed to Newgate, 
 
176 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 tried, condemned, and executed, in March 1713. 
 Though rude and profligate before, he was penitent 
 and devout after receiving his sentence. 
 
 WILLIAM GETT1NGS. 
 
 William's father was a grazier in Herefordshire; 
 and he lived with him until he was sixteen years old, 
 and then came up to London. Sometimes in the ca- 
 pacity of a footman, and sometimes in that of a butler, 
 he spent five years in a very irreproachable manner. 
 Unfortunately, however, he became acquainted with 
 evil company, was soon corrupted in principles, and 
 became a rogue in practice. 
 
 He began his course under the name of William 
 Smith, and traded in the smaller matter of pilfering. In 
 the dress of a porter he one evening went into the house 
 of a doctor of medicine, took down a rich bed, and 
 packed it up. In carrying it off he fell down stairs, 
 and had almost broken his neck. The noise alarming 
 the old doctor and his son, they came running to see 
 what was the matter; whereupon Gettings, puffing and 
 blowing as if he was quite out of breath, perceiving 
 them nearer than they should be, said to the doctor, 
 " Is not your name so and so?" — "Yes," replied the 
 doctor; " and what then?" — "Why, then, sir," said 
 Gettings, " there's one Mr. Hugh Hen and Penhenribus 
 has ordered me to bring these goods hither (which have 
 almost broken my back,) and carry them away to a 
 new lodging, which he has taken somewhere herea- 
 bouts." — " Mr. Hugh Hen and Penhenribus !" replied 
 the doctor again : " pray, who 's he 1 for, to the best of 
 my knowledge, I do n't know such a gentleman." — " 1 
 can't tell," said Gettings, "but, indeed, the gentleman 
 knows you, and ordered me to leave the goods here." 
 u 1 do n't care," said the doctor, " how well he knows 
 
William Gettings robs a Gentleman in his own Garden. P. 176. 
 
WILLIAM SETTINGS. 179 
 
 me ! I tell you I 'II not take the people's goods, unless 
 they were here themselves; therefore, I say, carry 
 them away !" — " Nay, pray sir," said Gettings, " let 
 me leave the goods here, for I am quite weary already 
 in bringing them hither." — " I tell you," replied the 
 doctor, " there shall none be left here ; therefore take 
 them away, or I '11 throw them into the street!" — 
 " Well, well," said Gettings, " I '11 take the goods away 
 then ; out I 'm sure the gentleman will be very angry, 
 because he ordered me to leave them here." — "I don't 
 care," replied the doctor, "for his anger, nor your's 
 either ! I tell you, I '11 take no charge of other people's 
 goods, unless they are here themselves to put them into 
 my custody !" — " Very well, sir," said Gettings, " since 
 I must carry them away, I beg the favor of you and 
 the gentleman there to lift them on my back." — "Ay, 
 ay, with all my heart," replied the doctor. "Come, 
 son, and lend a hand to lift them on the fellow's back." 
 
 Scarcely was William gone, when the doctor's wife 
 coming home from the market, and going into the room, 
 saw the bed taken down, and came running in a great 
 passion to her husband, exclaiming, "Why, truly, this is 
 a most strange business, that I can never stir out of doors, 
 but you must be making some whimsical alteration or 
 other in the house !" — " What 's the matter," replied 
 the doctor, " with the woman ? Are you beside your- 
 self?" — "No," said the wife, "but truly you are, in 
 thus altering things as you do, almost every moment !" 
 " Certainly, my dear," replied the doctor, " you must 
 have been spending your market-penny, or else you 
 would not talk at this rate, as you do, of alterations, 
 when not the smallest have been made since you have 
 gone out." — "I am not blind, I think," retorted the 
 wife, " for I am sure the bed is taken out of the two- 
 pair-of-stairs back room ; and pray, husband, where do 
 you design to put it now?" The doctor and his son 
 then went up-stairs, and not only found that the bed 
 was stolen, but that they had assisted the thief to carry 
 it off. 
 
 Our hero next resolved to try his fortune upon the 
 
180 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 highway, and meeting with a sharper on the road, 
 commanded him to " stand and deliver !" He robbed 
 him of two pence half-penny, when the sharper re- 
 marked, that " the world was come indeed to a very 
 sad pass, when one rogue must prey upon another." 
 
 He next robbed a man of twelve shillings and a pair 
 of silver buckles. From thence he proceeded to rifle a 
 stage-coach, and took away some money and a silver 
 watch. Not long after, he robbed Mr. Dash wood and 
 his lady of a gold watch and money. 
 
 These, however, were only smaller exhibitions of 
 his dexterity. One evening, well mounted, he passed 
 through Richmond, and perceiving a gentleman walk- 
 ing in his gardens, inquired of the gardener if he might 
 be permitted to view the gardens, of which he had 
 heard so much. 
 
 The gardener, well acquainted with the harmless 
 vanity and benevolence of his master, granted his 
 request. Giving his horse to the gardener, Gettings 
 walked forward, and in a very respectful manner 
 accosted the gentleman, who received him very cour- 
 teously; when, sitting down together in an arbor, Get- 
 tings said, " Your worship has got a fine diamond ring 
 upon your finger." — " Yes," replied the owner, " it 
 ought to be a very fine one, for it cost me a very fine 
 price." — " Why, then," said Gettings, " it is the fitter 
 to bestow on a friend ; therefore, if your worship 
 pleases, I must make bold to take it and wear it for 
 your sake." The gentleman stared at his impudence, 
 but Gettings presenting a pistol, made a short process 
 of the matter. Having taken the ring, the villain 
 added, " 1 am sure you do not go without a good watch 
 too." Making free with that also, and some guineas, 
 he bound the gentleman, and went off with his booty, 
 after requesting him to be patient, and he would send 
 some person to set him at liberty. When he came to 
 the gate, he gave the gardener a shilling, informing him 
 that Sir James wanted to speak to him. The botanical 
 retainer accordingly went and untied his master, who 
 
M.t> BONNET. lb J 
 
 with a grim smile returned him thanks for sending a 
 man into his own garden to rob him. 
 
 Upon another day, Gettings undertook a long jour- 
 ney, for the express purpose of robbing the house of a 
 friend ; and being well acquainted with all parts of the 
 house, was successful, and brought off money, plate, 
 and goods, to a considerable amount. He at last, in an 
 unlucky moment, robbed a Mr. Harrison of four 
 guineas, some silver, and a watch ; and being detected, 
 was tried, condemned, and executed, on the 25th Sep- 
 tember, 1713, in the twenty-second year of his age. 
 
 NED BONNET. 
 
 Edward Bonnet was born of respectable parents in 
 the isle of Ely, in Cambridgeshire, received an educa- 
 tion superior to many of his companions, and when he 
 was only ten years old, gave the following proof of his 
 promising genius. He was sent to the parson with the 
 present of a sparerib of pork, wrapped up in a cloth in 
 a basket. Ned knocked with some degree of impor- 
 tance at the door, which a servant answered, inquiring 
 his business. " I want to speak with your master." 
 The master came. " Well, my dear, what is your 
 business?" " Why, only my father has sent you this," 
 said young Ned; and gave him the basket, without 
 moving his hat. " O fie ! fie ! child, have you no 
 manners ? you should pull off your hat, and say, — Sir, 
 my father gives his service to you, and desires you to 
 accept this small token. Come, go you out again with 
 the basket, and knock at the door, and I '11 let you in, 
 and see how prettily you can perform it." The parson 
 waited within until his impatience to receive and ex- 
 amine the contents of the basket incited *him to open 
 the door. But Ned was at a considerable distance, 
 
 P 
 
182 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 walking off with the present. " So ho ! so ho, sirrah ! 
 where are you going?" " Home, sir," replied Ned, in 
 an equally loud voice. "Hey, but you must come 
 back and do as I bade you first." " Thank you for 
 that, sir, I know better than that ; and if you teach me 
 manners, I '11 teach you wit." The father smiled at the 
 story, and retained his sparerib. 
 
 At the age of fifteen, Bonnet was sent apprentice to 
 a grocer, served his time with credit, was afterwards 
 married to a young woman in the neighborhood, and 
 continued in business until he had acquired about six 
 hundred pounds. Unfortunately, however, he was re- 
 duced to poverty by an accidental fire. Unable to 
 answer the pressing demands of his creditors, he left 
 the place, and came up to London. Here he soon 
 became acquainted with a band of highwaymen, and 
 began with them to seek from the highway what had 
 been lost by fire. 
 
 Nor did he long continue in the inferior walks of his 
 new profession, but providing himself with a horse 
 which he taught to leap over ditch, hedge, or toll-bar, 
 and to know all the roads in the country, whether by 
 day or by night, he quickly became the terror of Cam- 
 bridgeshire. 
 
 Upon this horse, he one day met a Cantabrigian, 
 who was possessed of more money than good sense, 
 morality, or wit, in a calash with a dashing courtesan. 
 Ned commanded the student to "stand and deliver." 
 Unwilling to show his cowardice before his companion, 
 he refused. Without any respect for the venerable 
 university to which he belonged, Ned by violence took 
 from him about six pounds, and presenting a pair of 
 pistols, constrained the hopeful pair to strip themselves, 
 then bound them together, and giving the horse a lash- 
 ing, the animal went off at full trot with them to the 
 inn to which he belonged. But no sooner did these 
 Adamites enter the town, than men, women, and chil- 
 dren, came hallooing, shouting, and collecting the 
 whole town to behold such an uncommon spectacle. 
 The student was expelled for disgracing the univer- 
 
NED BONNET. 183 
 
 sity, and the courtesan was sent to the house of cor- 
 rection. 
 
 Humorous Ned next met with a tailor and his son, 
 who had arrested him for five pounds. He command- 
 ed him to surrender, and received thirty-five in place 
 of his five. "I wonder," said the innwent son, 
 " what these fellows think of themselves 1 Surely they 
 must go to the place below for committing these noto- 
 rious actions." " God forbid," replied the tailor, " for 
 to have the conversation of such rogues there, would 
 be worse than all the rest." 
 
 Ned's next adventure was with an anabaptist preach- 
 er, whom he commanded to deliver up his purse and 
 scrip The latter began by reasonings, ejaculations, 
 and texts, to avert the impending evil. Ned instantly 
 put himself in a great passion, and replied, " Pray, sir, 
 keep your breath to cool your porridge, and do n't talk 
 of religious matters to me, for I '11 have you to know, 
 that, like all other true-bred gentlemen, I believe no- 
 thing at all of religion; therefore deliver me your 
 money, and bestow your laborious cant upon your 
 female auditors, who never scold with their maids 
 without cudgelling them with broken pieces of scrip- 
 ture." Whereupon, taking a watch and eight guineas, 
 he tied his legs under his horse, and let him depart. 
 
 On another occasion, Bonnet and a few associates 
 met a nobleman and four servants in a narrow pass, 
 one side of which was enclosed by a craggy and shatter- 
 ed rock, and the other by an almost impenetrable wood, 
 rising gradually considerably higher than the road, 
 and accosted them in his usual style. The nobleman 
 pretended that he supposed they were only in jest, and 
 said, " that if they would accompany him to the next 
 inn, he would give them a handsome treat." He was 
 soon informed that they preferred the present to the 
 future. A sharp dispute ensued, but the nobleman 
 and his men were conquered ; and the lord was robbed 
 of a purse of gold, a gold watch, a gold snurT-box, and 
 a diamond ring. 
 
 Being conducted into the adjacent wood, and bound 
 
184 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 hand and foot, the robbers left them, saying, " that they 
 would bring them more company presently." Accord- 
 ingly, they were as good as their word, for in less than 
 two hours they contrived to increase the number to 
 twelve, on which Ned cried, " There are now twelve 
 of you, all good men and true ; so bidding you farewell, 
 you may give in your verdict against us as you please, 
 when we are gone, though it will be none of the best ; 
 but to give us as little trouble as possible, we shall not 
 now stay to challenge any of you. So, once more, 
 farewell." 
 
 Ned Bonnet and his comrades now going to the place 
 of rendezvous, to make merry with what they had got, 
 which was at a by sort of an inn standing somewhat 
 out of the high-road between Stamford and Grantham, 
 it happened at night to rain very hard, so that one Mr. 
 Randal, a pewterer, living neir Marygold alley in the 
 Strand, before it was burnt down, was obliged to put 
 in there for shelter. Calling for a pot of ale, on which 
 was the innkeeper's name, which was also Randal, the 
 pewterer asked him, being his namesake, to sit and 
 bear him company. 
 
 They had not been long chatting, before Ned and 
 one of his comrades came down stairs and placed 
 themselves at the same table ; and understanding the 
 name of the stranger, one of the rogues, fixing his eyes 
 more intently than ordinary upon him, in a fit of seem- 
 ing joy leaped over the table, and embracing the pew- 
 terer, exclaimed, " Dear Mr. Randal ! who would have 
 thought to have seen you here? it is ten years, I think, 
 since I had the happiness to be acquainted with you." 
 
 Whilst the pewterer was recollecting whether he 
 could call this spark to mind or not, for it came not 
 into his memory that he had ever seen him in his life, 
 the highwayman again cried out, "Alas ! Mr. Randal, 
 I see now I am much altered, since you have forgotten 
 me." Here, being arrived at a ne plus ultra, up started 
 Ned, and with as great apparent joy said to his com- 
 panion. " Is this, Harry, the honest gentleman in Lon- 
 don, whom you so often used to praise for his great civi- 
 
NED BONNET. 185 
 
 lily and liberality to all people? Surely then we are 
 very happy in meeting thus accidentally with him." 
 
 By this discourse they would almost have persuaded 
 Mr. Randal that they perfectly knew him ; but being 
 sensible of the contrary, he very seriously assured them 
 that he could not remember that he had ever seen any 
 of them in his life. " No !" said they, struck with 
 seeming astonishment; "it is- strange we should be 
 altered so much within these few years." 
 
 But to evade further ill-timed questions, the rogues 
 insisted upon Mr. Randal's supping with them, which 
 invitation he was by no means permitted to decline. 
 
 By the time they had supped, in came four more of 
 Ned's comrades, who were invited also to sit down, and 
 more provisions were called for, which were quickly 
 brought, and as rapidly devoured. 
 
 When the fury of consuming half a dozen good fowls 
 and other victuals was over, besides several flasks of 
 wine, there was not less than three pounds odd money 
 to pay. At this they stared on each other, and held a 
 profound silence, whilst Mr. Randal was fumbling in 
 his pocket. When they saw that he only brought 
 forth a mouse from the mountain of money the thieves 
 hoped to find piled in his pocket, which was only as 
 much as his share, he that pretended to know him 
 started up, and protested he should be excused for old 
 acquaintance sake ; but the pewterer, not willing to be 
 beholden, as indeed they never intended he should, to 
 such companions, lest for this civility they should ex- 
 pect greater obligations from him, pressed them to 
 accept his dividend of the reckoning, saying, if they 
 thought it equitable he would pay more. 
 
 At last one of them, tipping the wink, said, " Come, 
 come, what needs all this ado? Let the gentleman, if 
 he so pleases, present us with this small treat, and do 
 you give him a larger at his taking his farewell in the 
 morning." Mr. Randal not liking this proposal, it was 
 started that he and Ned should throw dice to end tho 
 controversy; and fearing he had got into ill company, 
 to avoid mischief, Randal acquiesced to throw a main 
 
 8 
 
186 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 who should pay the whole shot, which was so managed 
 that, the lot fell upon Randal. By this means Randal, 
 having the voice of the whole board against hiin, was 
 deputed to pay the whole reckoning; though the dis- 
 sembling villains vowed and protested they had rather 
 it had fallen to any of them, that they might have had 
 the honor of treating him. 
 
 Mr. Randal concealed his discontent at these shirking 
 tricks as well as he could; and they perceiving he 
 would not engage in gaming, but counterfeited drowsi- 
 ness, and desired to be abed, the company broke up, 
 and he was shown to his lodgings, which he barrica- 
 doed as well as he could, by putting old chairs, stools, 
 and tables against the door. Going to bed and putting 
 the candle out, he fell asleep; but was soon awaked by 
 a strange walking up and down the room, and an out- 
 cry of murder and thieves. 
 
 At this surprising noise he leaped out of bed, and ran 
 to the door, to see whether it was fast or not : and find- 
 ing nothing removed, (for the highwaymen came into 
 his chamber by a trap-door which was behind the 
 hangings,) he wondered how the noise should be there 
 in his apartment, unless it was enchanted; but as he 
 was about to remove the barricade to run and raise the 
 house, he was surrounded by a crew, who, tying and 
 gagging him, took away all his clothes, and left him to 
 shift for himself as well as he could. 
 
 One day having the misfortune to have his horse 
 shot under him, Bonnet embraced the first opportunity 
 to take a good gelding from the grounds of the man 
 who kept the Red Lion inn. Being again equipped like 
 a gentleman, he rode into Cambridgeshire, and met 
 with a gentleman, who informed him that he had well 
 nigh been robbed, and requested him to ride along with 
 him for protection. As a highwayman is never out of 
 his way, he complied, and, at a convenient place, levied 
 a contribution, as protector of the gentleman, by empty- 
 ing his pockets of eighty guineas. He, however, had 
 the generosity to give him half-a-crown to carry him 
 to the next town. 
 
WILL OGDEN AND TOM REYNOLDS. 187 
 
 After having, according to computation, committed 
 three hundred robberies, another thief, being appre- 
 hended, in order to save his own life, informed against 
 Bonnet, who was apprehended, not upon the highway, 
 but in his own lodgings, and sent to Newgate, and at 
 the next assizes carried down to Cambridge, sentenced 
 and executed before the castle, on the 28th March, 
 1713, to the great joy of the county, which had suf- 
 fered severely by his depredations. 
 
 WILL OGDEN AND TOM REYNOLDS. 
 
 The first of these was a waterman, and born in 
 Southwark. The second was a dung-bargeman, and 
 born in Barnaby street. Entering into company, they 
 robbed shops and ships, during the space of two years, 
 with considerable success : they then ascended to the 
 second degree of robbery, and broke several houses in 
 Southwark. Associating themselves with another, they 
 broke into a watchmaker's shop, and extracted twenty- 
 six watches ; but the stranger becoming evidence, our 
 two trusty friends were lodged in Newgate, tried, and 
 condemned, but received a pardon, in consequence of 
 which they were again let loose upon the community. 
 Ogden one evening met a parson walking home under 
 the light of the moon, and approached him in the cha- 
 racter of a seaman in great poverty and distress. His 
 dismal narrative excited the compassion of the parson, 
 who gave him a sixpence. The parson had not pro- 
 ceeded far when Ogden met him again, and renewed 
 his request. " You are the most impudent beggar that 
 ever I met with," cried the reverend gentleman. Og- 
 den told him that he was in very great want, and that 
 the sixpence he had received would not supply his ne- 
 cessities. He then gave him half a crown. Ogden 
 said, " These are very sad times, ioi there 's horrid 
 
188 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 robbing abroad, therefore, if you have any more money 
 about you, you may as well let me have it as another, 
 who perhaps may abuse yon, and binding you hand 
 and foot, make you lie in the cold all night ; but if 
 you '11 give me your money, I '11 take care of you, and 
 conduct you very safely home." 
 
 The parson made a virtue of necessity, and gave 
 him all his money, which was about forty shillings. 
 Ogden then said, "I see you have a watch, sir; you 
 may as well let me have that too." The parson com- 
 plied, and as they were plodding along, two or three 
 fellows came out upon them, to whom Ogden cried, 
 " The moon shines bright," and they let them proceed. 
 They had only gone a short way, when the same scene 
 was repeated, but at last the parson was brought safely 
 to his own door. He requested his guide to go in, 
 assuring him that he should receive no injury; but the 
 latter declined his offer. The good parson then brought 
 a bottle of wine, and drinking to Ogden, gave him the 
 bottle and the glass to help himself, upon which he ran 
 off with both. 
 
 Upon another day, meeting Beau Medlicote, he was 
 commanded to " stand and deliver." The beau pre- 
 tended to make some resistance with his sword, but 
 pistols being produced, he was constrained to yield. 
 There were only two half-crowns found in his pocket, 
 and one of them was bad. Upon this he received a 
 complete caning for presuming to carry counterfeit 
 money. 
 
 Some time after this, Ogden and Reynolds, in com- 
 pany with one Bradshaw, the grandson of serjeant 
 Bradshaw, who condemned king Charles the First to 
 death, were watching in a wood for some booty. A 
 poor servant girl was returning home from her service, 
 with a box upon her head. Bradshaw was deemed a 
 sufficient match for her; accordingly, he alone rushed 
 out of the wood and seized her box, in which were her 
 clothes and fifteen shillings, being all her wages for 
 three months' service. When he had broken up her 
 box and was rifling it, there happening to be a hammer 
 
WILL OGDEN AND TOM REYNOLDS. 189 
 
 in it, she suddenly seized the hammer, and gave him a 
 blow upon the temples, which was followed by another 
 equally well directed, with the claw of the hammer, 
 into his windpipe, on which the villain instantly ex- 
 pired. 
 
 In a short time a gentleman came up, to whom she 
 related the whole adventure ; he went up to the de- 
 ceased, and found in his pockets eighty guineas, with a 
 whistle. Perceiving its use, he immediately whistled, 
 when Ogden and Reynolds in a moment rushed from 
 the wood ; but discovering that it was a wrong person 
 who gave the signal, they with equal speed ran back. 
 The gentleman carried the girl before a magistrate, 
 became bail for her appearance ; and being tried, she 
 was acquitted. 
 
 At another time, these two men met a tallyman, well 
 known for his commerce of two kinds with the hawk- 
 ers of St. Giles'-in-the-Fields. They employed the 
 common phrase " Stand and deliver !" In a piteous 
 tone the victim entreated them to spare a poor man 
 who was at great pains to acquire his daily bread. In 
 a violent passion Ogden exclaimed, "Thou spawn of 
 hell ! have pity on thee 1 No, sirrah ! I know you too 
 well," and I would almost as soon be kind to a bailiff or 
 an informing constable. A tallyman and a rogue are 
 terms cf similar import. Every Friday you set up a 
 tenter in the Marshalsea court, upon which you rack 
 and stretch poor prisoners, like English broadcloth, be- 
 yond the staple of the wool, till the threads crack, 
 which causes them upon the least wet to shrink, and 
 presently wear threadbare. I say that you and all 
 your calling are worse rogues than ever were hanged 
 at Tyburn." After this eloquent harangue, he took 
 whatever he found upon him, stripped him naked, 
 bound him hand and foot, and left him under a hedge 
 to ruminate on his former villanies. 
 
 These rogues were great cronies of Thomas Jones and 
 John Richardson, the one butler, the other footman, to 
 a gentleman living at Eltham. These fellows having 
 one day robbed a gentleman on Blackheath, left him 
 
190 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 bound by the roadside. Their master coming past a 
 few hours after, relieved the unfortunate gentleman, 
 took him to his own house, and gave him a glass of 
 wine to recruit his spirits. The butler no sooner ap- 
 peared, than the gentleman knew him, and instantly 
 charged him with the robbery. His master was asto- 
 nished, and could scarcely credit the report ; but the 
 other describing the horse upon which he rode, and the 
 person who was along with him, he found that he was 
 one of his footmen. The two servants being examined, 
 and acknowledging the fact, were committed, tried, and 
 suffered the punishment due to their crimes. 
 
 Ogden and Reynolds continued their depredations 
 until justice at length overtook them, and at Kingston- 
 upon-Thames they were sentenced. They were un- 
 successful in attempting to break out of the Stock- 
 house ; and such was the indifference of Ogden, that 
 when he was going to the place of execution, he threw 
 a handful of money among the crowd, saying, " Gen- 
 tlemen, here is poor Will's farewell." 
 
 They were executed on the 2d of April, 1714. 
 
 JOHN PRICE. 
 
 The depravity of human nature was exemplified in 
 its full extent in the character of John Price. The 
 indigence and profligacy of his parents were such, that 
 he received no education, and he was sent into the 
 world to shift for himself at the age of seven. Before 
 this period, he was a proficient both in cursing and 
 lying. It is rather a singular fact, that his habitual 
 lying was once a means of saving his life. 
 
 About the age of eighteen he was serving a gentle- 
 man in the country, who turned him off for his notori- 
 ous falsehoods. In going to London, he robbed a wo- 
 man of eighteen shillings, was apprehended in the act, 
 
JOHN PRICE. 191 
 
 and convicted ; but his late master, who was sheriff, 
 took pity upon his situation, and saved his life. In- 
 formed of this, the judges at the next assizes blamed 
 the gentleman's conduct for allowing a man to escape 
 who had pleaded guilty. The sheriff acknowledged 
 that such a man had been condemned at the last as- 
 sizes ; but then, he knew the fellow to be such an unac- 
 countable liar, that there was no believing one word he 
 said ; so his pleading guilty to what was laid to his 
 charge, was in his opinion a sufficient reason for his be- 
 ing believed innocent of the fact, and he would not hang 
 an innocent man for the world. This reply made the 
 judges smile, and he was dismissed with a severe repri- 
 mand, and cautioned not to come before them again. 
 
 Upon obtaining his liberty, Price went to London ; 
 associated with a band of robbers, and in a short time 
 was apprehended for diving into another person's pock- 
 et instead of his own, and for that crime committed to 
 Newgate. He was accordingly sentenced to a severe 
 whipping, and sent on board a man-of-war ; but after 
 he had received the punishment assigned to stealing 
 from the sailors, he was discharged from the ship. 
 
 He hastened again to London, joined another asso- 
 ciation of thieves, and abandoned himself to all manner 
 of wickedness. One evening his gang divided them- 
 selves into three companies. The first met an attorney, 
 near Hampstead, whom they robbed of eight guineas. 
 The unfortunate lawyer had not gone far when he was 
 attacked by the second party, to whom he related his 
 misfortunes, and into what cruel hands he had fallen. 
 " Cruel !" said one of them ; " how dare you use these 
 terms? And who made you so bold as to talk to us 
 with your hat on? Pray, sir, be pleased henceforward 
 to learn more manners." They then snatched off his 
 hat and wig, and took a diamond ring from his finger. 
 As he was plodding his way home, uncertain which 
 road was safest, the third division came up to him near 
 Kentish Town, bringing with them a man whom they 
 pretended to have completely stripped, and constrained 
 the lawyer to clothe the naked with his own coat and 
 
192 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 waistcoat ; then told him he might be thankful to get 
 off with his life, which he employed in sowing division 
 amongst society. 
 
 In a short time after this, Price and a companion one 
 evening entered a garret, in which there was nothing 
 but lumber, with the intention of robbing the house 
 when all was silent. But in the dark, as Price was 
 laying his hand upon a pistol which he had placed 
 upon a table, it went off and alarmed the people of the 
 house. His comrade instantly ran to the window, 
 where they fastened a rope for their escape, and his 
 companion attempting to slide down, the rope soon 
 broke, though he was not so much injured but he got 
 away. Price seeing the extreme danger of being 
 caught, removed the rope to another window, and it 
 conveyed him to a balcony. He was, however, scarce- 
 ly there, when all the people in the house were alarm- 
 ed ; on which he leaped into a large basket of eggs 
 which a man was carrying upon his head, from New- 
 gate market ; so that the fall being broken, he was able 
 to make his escape, amid the cry of " thieves !" 
 
 Jack now began to be so well known about town, 
 that he found it necessary to remove to the country. 
 He was there most industrious in stripping the hedges 
 of all the linen that he found upon them. Putting up 
 at an inn, the landlord soon understood from his dis- 
 course that he was a servant who would suit him, and 
 therefore hired him as his tapster. It was this miscre- 
 ant landlord's custom to murder travellers who put up 
 at his house ; but one gentleman being warned by a 
 maid of his danger, provided for his safety. 
 
 Among other things the maid informed him that it 
 was usual for the landlord to ring a bell, on which an 
 assassin, pretending to be a servant, entered the cham- 
 ber and snuffed out the candle, when the other villains 
 rushed in and murdered the stranger. The gentleman 
 caused the maid to place a lantern with a candle in it 
 under a stool, and he laid his arms ready and stood 
 upon his guard. Scarcely had he sat himself down 
 when it happened as the girl had mentioned : but the 
 
JOHN PRICE. 193 
 
 gentleman, with the assistance of his servant, killed 
 two of the villians and put the rest to flight. He then 
 seized the innkeeper and his wife, carried them before 
 a magistrate, and they were indicted to stand trial at 
 the next assizes. From the maid's deposition it ap- 
 peared that fourteen strangers had been murdered by 
 them, and that their bodies were concealed in an arched 
 vault in the garden, to which there was a passage from 
 the cellar. Both were executed, and the innkeeper 
 hung in chains. 
 
 Jack having once more escaped death, returned to 
 his pilfering trade, was committed to Newgate, and 
 whipped for his crimes. But Jack was now determined 
 to follow the example of the great ones of the earth, 
 and to better his circumstances by marriage. Accord- 
 ingly, he married one of the name of Betty, who gained 
 her livelihood by running errands to the prisoners of 
 Newgate. Nor was Jack, like too many, disappointed 
 in his matrimonial connection, for he was soon elevated 
 to be hangman to the county of Middlesex. In this 
 station he assumed great importance, and held a levee 
 every day that he did business at Tyburn ; but though 
 he sometimes ran in debt, yet he was always very 
 willing to work in order to pay his obligations. But 
 envy reached even him, and he lost his place by means 
 of one who had greater ministerial interest. But Jack 
 could never be destitute while he had hands and fin- 
 gers to lay hold of whatever was within his reach. 
 
 He at last suffered from having assaulted a watch- 
 man's wife, whom he met in Bunhill Fieids, and used 
 in such a barbarous manner that she died in a few 
 days of her wounds. Two men suddenly came up to 
 him, and, being seized, he was secured in Newgate. 
 After his trial and condemnation he remained impeni- 
 tent, and endeavored, by intoxication, to stifle the fore- 
 bodings of conscience. He was hanged on the 31st of 
 May, 1718. 
 
 0, 
 
194 
 
 JACK SHEPHERD. 
 
 The father of the celebrated John Shepherd was a 
 carpenter in Spitalfields, of good character, and ex- 
 ceedingly solicitous to train up his children in the path 
 of sobriety and religion. They, however, afforded a 
 melancholy proof that the most virtuous example, ^find 
 the soundest principles, are frequently unsuccessful in 
 influencing the conduct of children. Two of his sons 
 followed evil courses, and were convicted at the bar of 
 the Old Bailey. 
 
 After his father's death, young Shepherd was sent to 
 a school in Bishopsgate street, where he received the 
 rudiments of education, and was bound apprentice to a 
 cane chair-maker. His master used him well, and he 
 lived very comfortably with him ; but this master dy- 
 ing, he was sent to another, who treated him so very 
 harshly that he eloped. Masters ought to be cautious 
 how they conduct themselves towards their servants, 
 because this harsh usage was in all probability the 
 cause of Jack Shepherd's ruin, as well as of bringing 
 great injury upon society. In a short time, he com- 
 menced his depredations, and, in place of his former 
 sober mode of life, his time was spent in drinking all 
 day, and retiring to an infamous abode all night. 
 
 The history of this unfortunate man adds another to 
 the many examples already given in this volume, that 
 the company of profligate women has plunged men into 
 scenes of dissipation and vice, to which they would 
 have been entire strangers, had it not been for such 
 associates. He was first enamored of one Elizabeth 
 Lion, a woman remarkable for her stature and strength. 
 Having separated from her, he associated with one 
 who stimulated him to all manner of pilfering, in order 
 
:ack shepherd. 195 
 
 that he might be the better able to feed her extrava- 
 gances. 
 
 One day, informing her that she had received his last 
 half-crown, she instigated him to rob a wealthy pawn- 
 broker. Shepherd left her about one in the morning, 
 and returned with goods to the value of twenty-two 
 pounds. It was not long before the two who had 
 planned the robbery exhausted the booty. 
 
 The first favorite of Shepherd was committed to St. 
 Giles' round-house, for some pilfering pranks. Jack 
 went to see her, broke open the doors, beat the keeper, 
 and, set Bess Lion at liberty. It is scarcely necessary 
 to add, that this action gained him great fame among 
 ladies of her description, and stimulated him to more 
 daring acts of depredation. 
 
 About this period Jack supplied his brother with a 
 little money to equip him for the honorable profession 
 he himself followed ; and they broke into a linen dra- 
 per's shop, from whence they extracted goods to the 
 amount of fifty pounds. The younger brother, how- 
 ever, being rather a novice in the art, was too open in 
 the disposal of the goods, by which means he was de- 
 tected, and his first return for the kindness of his bro- 
 ther was to inform upon him and several of his confe- 
 derates. Jack Shepherd was accordingly apprehended, 
 and committed to the round-house for farther examina- 
 tion. This place could not long retain so bold a spirit, 
 and marching off, he that very evening committed a 
 robbery, and vowed to be revenged upon Tom for his 
 ungenerous conduct. 
 
 Detection produced no reformation. Jack, in com- 
 mon with one Benson, attempting to steal a gentleman's 
 watch, was discovered and committed to New Prison. 
 The first person whom he discerned there was his old 
 favorite Bess Lion, who had been sent there upon a 
 similar errand. After exerting all his cunning and 
 stratagem in vain, Bess and he by force escaped, and 
 instantly repaired to her old lodgings. There he re- 
 mained concealed for some time, but, taking leave of 
 his friend, he again associated with one Grace in rais- 
 
196 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 ing contributions. These two villains becoming ac- 
 quainted with one Lamb, an apprentice to Mr. Carter, 
 they enticed him to introduce them into his master's 
 house, from whence they extracted goods to a consider- 
 able amount. Shepherd and Grace, however, differed 
 in the division of the spoil, and betrayed each other ; 
 when Grace and Lamb were apprehended. The mis- 
 fortune of poor Lamb, who was so simply inveigled, 
 excited the compassion of some gentlemen, who by 
 their exertions succeeded in mitigating his sentence to 
 transportation. 
 
 The confederates of Shepherd, in order to obtain a 
 ready market for their goods, employed one Field to 
 sell them, but he being occasionally dilatory, they 
 hired a warehouse, and there deposited what goods 
 they stole. Field, displeased at being turned off from 
 his lucrative employment, importuned them to show 
 him their stores, as he had several orders for goods, 
 and could therefore dispose of them to advantage. He 
 was conducted to the warehouse pnd shown the goods, 
 and though he had not the courage manfully to rob any 
 person, yet he emptied the warehouse of every rag it 
 contained. 
 
 In the course of business, Shepherd robbed a Mr. 
 Kneebone, and was tried at the ensuing sessions. He 
 appeared simple and almost foolish at his trial, alleging, 
 as his principal defence, that Jonathan Wild had dis- 
 posed of part of the goods, and ought therefore to be 
 punished as well as himself. He was however sen- 
 tenced, and conducted himself, in the whole of his 
 defence, more like an ignorant and simple man, than 
 one who was formed to excel in his own or any other 
 profession. 
 
 But necessity is the mother of invention. While in 
 the condemned hole, he prevailed upon one Fowls, who 
 was also under sentence of death, to lift him up to the 
 iron spikes that were over the top of the door which 
 looks into the lodge. By the aid of a strong tall wo- 
 man, and two others, his head and shoulders were got 
 through, and the whole of his Vdy following, he was 
 
JACK SHEPHERD. 197 
 
 bv them let down, and, without the least suspicion of 
 the Keepers, conveyed through the lodge, put into a 
 hackney coach, and out of reach before the least notice 
 of his escape could be given. 
 
 But Jack had scarcely breathed the fresh air when 
 he returned to business. He associated with one Page, 
 a butcher, who dressed him in one of his frocks, and 
 both betook themselves to the highway. They went 
 to a watchmaker's shop, in a daring manner broke 
 open one of the glasses, and seized three watches before 
 the boy who kept the shop could detect them. Upon 
 this occasion Shepherd had the audacity to pass under 
 Newgate. 
 
 But as Shepherd would not conceal himself nor give 
 over his depredations, he was soon apprehended and 
 again committed to Newgate, was put into the stone- 
 room, loaded with irons, and stapled down to the 
 ground. Being left alone, he with a crooked nail 
 opened the lock, got free of his chains, wrought out 
 two stones in the chimney, entered the red-room, 
 where no person resided, threw down the door, got 
 into the chapel, broke a spike of the door, and by it 
 opened four other doors, got upon the roof, and from 
 thence, by the means of his blanket, went in at a gar- 
 ret window belonging to an adjacent house, and 
 through that house into the street. 
 
 The whole of this almost incredible exertion was 
 rendered the more extraordinary in that his irons were 
 on all the time. When at liberty, he went into an ad- 
 joining field and knocked them off; and, astonishing to 
 relate, that very evening robbed a pawnbroker's house, 
 where among other things he found a handsome suit 
 of black clothes, in which he dressed himself, and car- 
 ried the booty to two of his female companions. 
 
 He now went to visit his companions in their scenes 
 of iniquity, and drinking at a brandy shop, was disco- 
 vered by a boy who knew him. The boy had no 
 sooner recognised Jack than he ran to give information, 
 so that he was almost immediately apprehended and 
 reconducted to his old quarters in Newgate, amid a 
 
198 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 vast crowd, who ran from all parts to see such an ex- 
 traordinary character ; but he was so intoxicated at the 
 time that he was scarcely conscious of his miserable 
 situation. To prevent the possibility of a third escape, 
 they never permitted him to be alone, and made the 
 contributions of those who came to see and converse 
 with such a singular character pay for their additional 
 trouble. 
 
 He was now the topic of general conversation, and 
 multitudes, not only of the common ranks of society, 
 but many in the more elevated ranks of life, flocked to 
 see him. In the most ludicrous and jocular manner he 
 related his adventures, exerting all his low wit and 
 buffoonery to amuse those who visited him, and to 
 exact money from them. In this manner were the last 
 days of this unhappy mortal spent, in diverting his 
 mind from serious reflection, and the awful scene before 
 him. Nor was he even destitute of the hope of pardon, 
 from the distinguished persons who visited him, and 
 who seemed to pity his misfortune. But these hopes 
 were vain, and the attentions of these persons proved 
 worse than useless. 
 
 He was removed to the bar of the court of the King's 
 Bench, in November, 1724, and an affidavit made that 
 he was the same John Shepherd mentioned in the re- 
 cord of conviction. Judgment was awarded against 
 him, and the day of his execution fixed. But such 
 was his strong desire of life, and his belief that his re- 
 sources would never fail him, that he prepared a knife 
 to cut the ropes of the cart which should carry him to 
 Tyburn, in hopes of running off among the crowd. 
 This knife was, however, with no small difficulty, 
 taken from him by force. As his last refuge to provide 
 against every possible event, he employed a friend, to 
 whom he had given all the money he had reserved 
 from his visiters, to take his body away with all possi- 
 ble haste, put it into a warm bed, and draw a little 
 blood, thus to use every possible means to recover 
 life. He finally enjoined, that if all means should 
 prove unsuccessful, his body should be decently in- 
 
/ 
 
 Richard Turpin. P 201. 
 
RICHARD TURPIN. 201 
 
 (erred, and the remainder of the money given to his poor 
 mother. 
 
 He was conducted to the place of execution in a cart, 
 strongly handcuffed, when he behaved very gravely, 
 confessed some of the robberies laid to his charge, and 
 exculpated himself from others. His general dexterity, 
 and the various scenes through which he had passed, 
 operated to excite, in no common degree, the sympathy 
 of the multitude. 
 
 RICHARD TURPIN. 
 
 There never was, perhaps, a man in the particular 
 profession to which this notorious fellow devoted him- 
 self, whose name was more familiar in the mouths of 
 the common people than that of Richard Turpin. But, 
 since it invariably happens that a certain proportion of 
 curiosity respecting the life and actions of a man is 
 sure to beget a corresponding desire to satisfy it, we 
 cannot wonder if the perplexed biographer should 
 sometimes resort to fiction to supply the deficiencies of 
 fact. Hence it has happened that certain exploits have 
 been attributed to Turpin which do not properly belong 
 to him; amongst others, the unparalleled ride from 
 York to London in' an unprecedentedly short period, 
 performed, it is averred, on a single horseV We have 
 never been able to find any authentic account of this 
 feat, nor have we, as yet, discovered any conceivable 
 necessity that should compel him to such a rapid jour- 
 ney. Turpin was never tried but once, and that was, 
 indeed, at York; but the reader will perceive that he 
 had no opportunity of escape, nor did he attempt any 
 thing of the kind after his first apprehension. 
 
 Richard Turpin was Ihe son of John Turpin, of 
 Hempstead in Essex, and was put apprentice to a 
 
202 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 butcher in Whitechapel, where he served his time, 
 during which period he was frequently guilty of mis- 
 demeanors, and conducted himself in a loose and dis- 
 orderly manner. 
 
 As soon as his time was up, he married, and set up 
 in business for himself at Suson in Essex, where, hav- 
 ing no credit in the market, and no money in his pock- 
 et, he was shortly reduced to the necessity of maintain- 
 ing himself by indirect practices; and, accordingly, 
 very often used to rob the neighboring gentry of sheep, 
 lambs, and oxen. 
 
 Upon one occasion, he stole a couple of oxen from a 
 farmer at Plaistow, which he caused to be conveyed to 
 his own house and cut up. Two of the men belonging 
 to the farm, having a suspicion of Turpin, went to his 
 house, and seeing an ox slaughtered, were convinced 
 of his guilt ; and having traced the sale of the hides, 
 returned to Suson to apprehend him. Turpin, apprized 
 of their intention, left them in the front room, jumped 
 out of a window and made his escape. 
 
 By this time his character had become notorious, and 
 he never could entertain a thought of returning to Su- 
 son, or of following the trade of a butcher in that coun- 
 ty. He, accordingly, resolved to commence smuggler ; 
 and raising as much money as he could scrape together, 
 he betook himself to the hundreds of Essex, where he 
 soon became connected with a gang of smugglers. 
 This his new profession he followed for some time 
 with tolerable success ; but fortune taking a turn, he 
 lost all that h$ had acquired; upon which he began to 
 turn his thoughts to another, but by no means more 
 honest, mode of life. In a word, he connected himself 
 with a gang of deer-stealers, who finding him a despe- 
 rate fellow, and fit for their purpose, admitted him 
 among them. This desperate gang, afterwards known 
 and feared under the title of the Essex Gang, not only 
 robbed the forest of deer, but thinned several gentle- 
 men's parks of them, insomuch that they obtained a 
 considerable sum of money. They followed deer-steal- 
 ing only for some time ; but n3t finding the money 
 
RICHARD TURPIN. 203 
 
 come in so quickly as they wished, and being narrowly 
 Watched by the park-keepers, they, by Turpin's direc- 
 tion, resolved to go round the country at nights, and 
 when they could find a house that had any thing valu- 
 able in it, one was to knock at the door, which being 
 opened, the rest should rush in and plunder it, not only 
 of plate but of household goods. 
 
 The first person attacked in ihis manner was a Mr. 
 Strype, an old man who kept a chandler's shop at 
 Watford, from whom they only took the money he had 
 by him ; but Turpin informed his companions that he 
 knew an old woman at Loughton, who, he was certain, 
 had seven or eight hundred pounds in her possession. 
 The plan being declared feasible, away they went, and 
 coming to the door, one of them knocked, and Turpin 
 and the rest of the gang rushed in. The first thing 
 they did was to blindfold the old lady and her maid. 
 Turpin then examined the former touching her money, 
 upon which she declared that she had none, being na- 
 turally loth to part with it. Some of the gang were 
 inclined to believe her, but Turpin, with an oath, de- 
 clared that if she remained obstinate he would set her 
 on the fire. The poor old lady imagining that this was 
 a mere threat, suffered herself to be lifted on to the fire, 
 till the anguish she had endured for a long time com- 
 pelled her to disclose, and the gang retired with about 
 'bur hundred pounds. 
 
 They then consulted together who should be their 
 next victim, and agreed to wait upon a farmer, near 
 Ripple Side. The people within not answering the 
 door so soon as they would fain have had it opened, 
 they broke in, and according to their old custom tied 
 the old man, the old woman, the servant maid, and the 
 farmer's son-in-law. They then ransacked the house, 
 and robbed the old farmer of about seven hundred 
 pounds. Turpin, seeing so considerable a booty, cried, 
 " Ay, this would do if it were always so," their share 
 being about eighty pounds a man. 
 
 The success the gang met with made them resolve to 
 proceed against those who had attempted to detect them. 
 
204 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 They accordingly agreed to attack the house of Mason, 
 the keeper of Epping Forest. The time was fixed 
 when the house was to be attacked ; but Turpin having 
 still a great deal of money in his possession, could not 
 refrain from coming up to London to spend it, and get- 
 ting drunk, forgot the appointed time for putting their 
 design into execution : however, the rest, resolving not 
 to be balked, set out for Mason's, after having bound 
 themselves by oath not to leave one whole piece of 
 goods in the house. Accordingly they went, broke 
 open the door, beat poor Mason in a cruel manner, and 
 finally killed him under the dresser. An old man sit- 
 ting by the fireside, who declared that he knew nothing 
 of them, got off untouched. After ransacking the lower 
 part of the house, and doing much mischief, the}' pro- 
 ceeded up-stairs, and broke every thing in their way ; 
 at last, espying a punch-bowl, they broke that, when 
 out dropped a hundred and twenty guineas, which they 
 seized upon and made off with. 
 
 Turpin, with five others, in January, 1735, came to 
 the door of Mr. Saunders, a wealthy farmer at Charlton 
 in Kent, and knocking, inquired if the gentleman of 
 the house was at home ; he was answered he was, and 
 that being the signal, they rushed in, and going directly 
 to the parlor, where Mr. Saunders, his wife, and some 
 friends were amusing themselves at a quiet game of 
 cards, desired them on no account to be alarmed, for 
 that they would not hurt their persons, if they sat still 
 and made no disturbance. A silver snuff-box that lay 
 on the table Turpin at once appropriated to himself, 
 and the rest having bound the company, obliged Mr. 
 Saunders to accompany them about the house, and open 
 his closets and boxes, to prevent the necessity of laying 
 violent hands upon them, and perhaps upon himself. 
 They then possessed themselves of upwards of a hun- 
 dred pounds in money, besides other property, including 
 all the plate in the house. While this was proctfcing, 
 the maid-servant, a girl of some presence of mind, ran 
 up-stairs, and barring herself in one of the rooms, called 
 out lustily at the window for assistance ; but one of the 
 
RICHARD TURPIN. 205 
 
 rogues following her, broke open the door with a poker, 
 and brought her down again. In their search for all 
 things of value in the house, they hit upon some bottles 
 of wine, a bottle of brandy, and some mince-pies, with 
 which they immediately sat down and regaled them- 
 selves, inviting the company to partake, indeed com- 
 pelling them to drink a dram of brandy each, to work 
 off the fright. Mrs. Saunders, however, fainted, and a 
 glass of water with some drops in it was instantly pro- 
 vided, with which they bathed her temples, and were 
 very anxious for her recovery. After staying about 
 two hours in the house, they packed up their plunder, 
 and made off with it, threatening the inmates of the 
 house, that, if they stirred within two hours, they 
 would murder them. 
 
 The names of Turpin's principal associates were 
 Fielder, Rose, and Walker; there was another, also, 
 whose name we have not learned. These made an 
 appointment to rob a gentleman's house at Croydon, 
 and for that purpose agreed to meet at the Half-Moon 
 tavern, which they accordingly did, about six o'clock 
 in the evening. Walker, having some knowledge of 
 the house, went at the head of his companions into the 
 yard, and found the coachman dressing the horses ; him 
 they bound, and going from thence met Mr. Sheldon, 
 the master, whom they seized and compelled to show 
 them the way to the house. As soon as they entered, 
 they tied Mr. Sheldon's hands behind him with cords, 
 and having served the rest of the family after the same 
 fashion, fell to plundering the house. Eleven guineas, 
 and several pieces of plate, jewels, and other things of 
 value, was the result of this adventure ; but before they 
 left the place they returned two guineas, thanked Mr. 
 Sheldon for the very courteous manner with which 
 they had been received, and bade him good night. 
 
 Their next design was upon the house of Mr. Law- 
 rence, at Edgeware-bury near Stanmore. About five 
 o'clock they went from the Queen's Head at Stanmore, 
 and proceeded to the destined spot. On their arrival, 
 they left their horses at the outer gate, and climbing 
 R 
 
206 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBPERS. 
 
 over the hatch into the sheep-yard, met with a boy 
 just putting up some sheep. They seized him, and 
 presenting a pistol, told him they would shoot him if 
 he offered to cry out, but if he would inform them truly 
 what servants Mr. Lawrence kept, and who was in the 
 house, they would give him money. The boy, terrified 
 at their threats, told instantly what they desired, and 
 one of them thereupon knocked at the door. When it 
 was opened they all rushed in with pistols in their 
 hands, and seizing Mr. Lawrence, rifled his pockets, 
 out of which they took one guinea, a Portugal piece of 
 thirty-six shillings, about fifteen shillings in silver, and 
 his keys. Dissatisfied with so small a booty, they then 
 drove him up-stairs, and breaking open a closet, plun- 
 dered it of money, silver cups and spoons, gold rings, 
 and many other things of value. A bottle of elder 
 wine which they found they divided amongst the ser- 
 vants, lifting it to their mouths, as their hands were 
 pinioned behind them. A maid-servant who was 
 churning in an outhouse, hearing a noise, suspected 
 there were thieves in the house, and put out the candle 
 to secrete herself. One of them, however, discovered 
 her, and dragging her from her hiding-place, menaced 
 her with the most horrid threats if she raised an alarm. 
 All of them, indeed, disappointed and enraged at their 
 ill success, (for they had calculated upon a rich return 
 for their trouble and hazard,) practised on this occasion 
 the most savage cruelties. Having stripped the house 
 of every thing of worth, even to the sheets from the 
 beds, they dragged Mr. Lawrence down stairs again, 
 and declared, with the most dreadful oaths, that they 
 would cut his throat if he hesitated to confess what 
 money was in the house; and being answered that 
 there was none excepting that which they had taken, 
 they beat him barbarously with the butt-ends of their 
 whips, and inflicted a terrific cut upon his head with a 
 pistol. One of them took a chopping-bill and swore he 
 would cleave his legs off; another a kettle of water 
 from the fire, and flung upon him, which happening, 
 however, to have been recently filled, did no serious 
 
RICHARD TURPIN. 207 
 
 injury. In their search, besides the beforementioned 
 particulars, they met with a chest belonging to one ot 
 Mr. Lawrence's sons, which they broke open, taking 
 therefrom twenty pounds, and all his linen. Some of 
 th >se things were afterwards traced to a place called 
 Duck-lane, where two of these fellows were appi 3- 
 hended. 
 
 Although in this robbery they got about twenty-six 
 pounds in money in the whole, yet they made no fair 
 distribution of it amongst themselves. The honor 
 mentioned as existing among thieves was. in this in- 
 stance, at any rate, something of that character which 
 distinguishes their dealings with others not of their 
 profession ; for it appeared upon evidence, that those 
 who were most fortunate in the plunder, on the division 
 of the spoil, could bring their minds to produce no 
 more than three pounds nine shillings and sixpence. 
 
 These frequent and daring burglaries induced his 
 majesty to oiler a pardon to any one of the criminals 
 who had been concerned in entering the house of Mr. 
 Lawrence, and committing such .atrocities on the even- 
 ing of the 4th of February ; and further, a reward of 
 fifty pounds to every person who should be instrumen- 
 tal in the discovery of any of the offenders. 
 
 Notwithstanding which, on the 7th of February the 
 party again met by appointment, having fixed upon the 
 White Hart in Drury-lane, as the best place whereat to 
 concert future depredations. Accordingly, they agreed 
 upon making an attempt to rob Mr. Francis, a large 
 farmer near Mary-le-bone, at whose house they arrived 
 shortly after seven. The details of this outrage are 
 much the same as the previous robberies in which 
 they were engaged. They succeeded in obtaining 
 thirty-seven guineas and ten pounds in silver, a quan- 
 tity of jewels and linen, and the unfortunate Mr. Fran- 
 cis' wig, all of which they carried off; not forgetting 
 the latter, the value of which, excepting to the owner, 
 we are quite at a loss to conceive. 
 
 They also formed a design to rob the house of a 
 country justice, and with that intention met at a public 
 
208 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 house nea? Leigh. Not rightly knowing, however, the 
 way into the jolly justice's domicile, they concealed 
 vhemselves under some furze bushes ; but while they 
 were thus lying perdue there, they heard several per- 
 sons riding along together, who happened to be some 
 of the neighboring farmers returning from the table of 
 the rustic Rhadamanthus in a state of noisy mirth, in- 
 duced, doubtless, by the genial fumes of the justice's 
 wines; and by their conversation it was plain that 
 there were others still remaining there, who, dreading 
 neither riotous spouses nor the midnight bottle, might 
 probably have determined with wine and song to " out- 
 watch the bear;" they, therefore, deemed it advisable 
 not to attempt it that night, and adjourned accordingly 
 their attack to some more promising period, which so 
 far proved of advantage to them, that it thereby pre- 
 vented their being taken, as otherwise they unavoida- 
 bly would have been ; for they had been observed by 
 some of the neighborhood, and being suspected as 
 smugglers, information was given to the custom-house, 
 and a party of dragoons sent out after them, whom 
 they met ; when after a strict search, nothing having 
 been found upon them, they were suffered to pass. 
 Thus the jolly justice escaped. 
 
 The daring robberies of these men at length roused 
 the country, and one of the king's keepers waited on 
 the duke of Newcastle, and obtained his majesty's pro- 
 mise of a reward of one hundred pounds to him who 
 should be fortunate enough to apprehend any of them. 
 This made them lie a little more concealed ; but some 
 of the keepers and others receiving intelligence that 
 they were regaling themselves at an alehouse in West- 
 minster, they pursued them there, and bursting open 
 the door, took three, after a stout resistance ; two of 
 whom, the third turning evidence against them, were 
 hanged in chains accordingly. Turpin, however, made 
 his escape by leaping from a window. 
 
 The gang thus broke up, and Turpin, quite left to 
 himself, made a determination never to command an- 
 other, but to go altogether upon his own bottom ; and 
 
RICHARD TURPIN. 209 
 
 with this view he set out for Cambridge, as he was not 
 known in that county. 
 
 Notwithstanding this resolve, the following strange 
 encounter provided him with his best companion (as 
 he would call him) before he reached his journey's 
 end. King, the highwayman, who had been towards 
 Cambridge on professional business, was returning to 
 town. Turpin seeing him well mounted, and bearing 
 the appearance of a gentleman, thought it was an ex- 
 cellent opportunity to recruit his pockets, and accord- 
 ingly, with a loud voice, commanded King to stand. 
 King, enjoying the joke, though at the ugly prospect of 
 a bullet through his head if he carried the jest too far, 
 assumed all the conduct of a person so unceremonious- 
 ly addressed. "Deliver!" shouted Turpin, "or by 
 
 I '11 let daylight through you." " What," said 
 
 King, laughing heartily, " what ! dog eat dog !- Come, 
 come ! brother Turpin, if you don't know me, I know 
 you, and should be glad of your company." After 
 mutual assurances of fidelity to one another, and that 
 nothing should part them till death, they agreed to go 
 together upon some exploit, and met with a small booty 
 that very day ; after which they continued together, 
 committing divers robberies, for nearly three years, 
 when King was accidentally shot. 
 
 King being very well known about the country, as 
 likewise was Turpin, insomuch that no house would 
 entertain them, they formed the idea of dwelling in a 
 cave, and to that end pitched upon a place enclosed 
 with a large thicket, between Loughton Road and 
 King's-Oak-Road ; here they made a place large 
 enough to receive them and two horses, and while 
 they lay concealed there, they could see, through seve- 
 ral holes purposely made, what passengers went by oil 
 either road, and as they thought proper sallied out and 
 robbed them. This they did in such a daring manner 
 and so frequently, that it was not safe for any person 
 to travel that way, and the very higglers were obliged 
 to go armed. In this cave they drank and lay ; Tur- 
 pin' s wife supplied them with food, and frequently 
 remained in the place all night with them. 
 
210 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 From the forest, King and Turpin once took a ride 
 to Bungay in Suffolk, where the latter had seen twc 
 young market-women receive thirteen or fourteen 
 pounds, and was determined to rob them of it. King 
 attempted to dissuade him from it, saying, they were 
 pretty girls, and he would never be engaged in an at- 
 tempt to deprive two hard-working women of their lit- 
 tle gains. Turpin, however, persisted, and coming up 
 with them, relieved them of the burden of their coin, 
 which exploit occasioned a dispute between them. 
 
 As they were returning they robbed a gentleman, 
 who was taking an airing in his chariot, with his two 
 children. King first attacked him, but found him so 
 powerful and determined a person, returning such 
 sound replies in the shape of blows to poor King's 
 civilities, that he was fain to call upon his companion 
 for assistance. Their united strength at last overcame 
 him, and they took from him all the money he had 
 about him, and then demanded his watch, which he 
 declined on any account to part with ; but one of the 
 hildren became frightened, and persuaded its father to 
 let them have it. They then insisted upon taking a 
 mourning ring which they observed he wore, and an 
 objection was raised on his part, even to that proposi- 
 tion. Finding, however, it was useless to oppose them, 
 he at length resigned it, telling them it was not worth 
 eighteen pence, but that he much valued it: upon 
 which information they returned it to him, saying they 
 were too much of gentlemen to take any thing which 
 another valued so much. 
 
 About this time the reward offered for the appreheu- 
 sion of Turpin had induced several poor, but resolute 
 men, to make an attempt to get him into their power. 
 Among the rest a man, groom to a Mr. Thompson, 
 tempted by the placard setting forth the golden return 
 in the event of success, connected himself with a higgler 
 to ward off suspicion, and commenced his search. 
 Turpin one day standing by himself in the neighbor- 
 hood of his cave, observed some one who, he supposed, 
 was poaching for hares, and saluted him with, " No 
 
RICHARD TURPIN. 211 
 
 hares near this thicket ; it's of no use seeking, you 'II 
 not find any." — " Perhaps I shall a Turpin, though," 
 replied the fellow, and levelled his piece at him. See- 
 ing his danger, Turpi n commenced a parley, retreating 
 at the same time by degrees towards his cave, the 
 groom following him with his gun presented. "I sur- 
 render," said Turpin, when he reached the mouth of 
 the cavern, and the man dropping the point of his piece, 
 the former seized his carbine, and shot him dead on the 
 spot. Turpin instantly made off to another part of 
 the country, in search of King, and sent his wife a 
 letter to meet him at a certain public house, at which, 
 in a few days, inquiring for her under a feigned name, 
 he found she was awaiting his appearance. The 
 kitchen where she was happened to be at the back 
 through a public room, where some farmers and others 
 were regaling themselves. On passing through, a 
 butcher, to whom he owed five pounds, recognised 
 him, and taking him aside, said, "I know you have 
 money now, Dick ; if you 'd pay me, it would be of 
 great service." — " My wife has certainly money to 
 some amount," replied Turpin, with a most unmoved 
 countenance; "she is in the next place; I '11 get it of 
 her, and pay you presently." When Turpin was gone, 
 the butcher apprized the company who he was, and 
 added, " I '11 just get my five pounds of him, and then 
 we '11 take him." Turpin, however, was not to be so 
 caught, and instead of going to his wife, leaped out of 
 the next window, took horse, and was off in an instant, 
 much to the discomfiture of the knight of the cleaver 
 and the assembled company, who doubtless had calcu- 
 lated most correctly the proportion of the reward that 
 would be due to each by virtue of the king's signet. 
 
 Having discovered King, and one of his associates 
 whose name was Potter, they determined to set out at 
 once for London ; and coming over the forest about 
 three hundred yards from the Green Man, Turpin 
 found that his horse, having undergone great fatigue, 
 began to tire. On such an occasion it was no question 
 with Turpin how he should provide himself with an- 
 
 9 
 
212 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 other, for, overtaking a gentleman, the owner of seve- 
 ral race-horses, he at once appropriated his steed and a 
 handsome whip to his own peculiar use, and recom- 
 mending his own broken-down jade to the kind consi- 
 deration of the party, speaking highly of his points, 
 left him to mount the sorry courser, and urge the 
 wretched quadruped forward in the best way he could. 
 This robbery was committed on a Saturday night, 
 and on the Monday following the gentleman received 
 intelligence, that such a • horse as he had lost and de- 
 scribed was left at an inn in Whitechapel ; he accord- 
 ingly went there, and found it to be the same. Nobody 
 came for it at the time appointed, but about eleven 
 o'clock at night, King's brother called for the horse, and 
 was seized immediately. The whip he carried in his 
 hand the gentleman instantly identified as that stolen 
 from him, although the button upon which his name 
 had been engraved was half broken off; the latter 
 letters of his name, however, were plainly distinguish- 
 able upon the remaining part They charged a consta- 
 ble with him, but he becoming frightened, and on the 
 assurance that if he spoke the truth he should be re- 
 leased, confessed that there was a lusty man in a white 
 duffel coat waiting for it in a street adjoining. One 
 Mr. Bayes immediately went out, and finding the man 
 as directed, perceived it was King. Coming round 
 upon him, Mr. Bayes (the then active landlord of the 
 Green Man, to whom the gentleman at the time had 
 related the robbery,) attacked him. King immediately 
 drew a pistol, which he pointed to Mr. Bayes' breast, 
 but it luckily flashed in the pan. A struggle then 
 ensued, for King was a powerful man, and Turpin 
 hearing the skirmish, came up, when King cried out, 
 
 " Dick, shoot him, or we are taken, by !" at which 
 
 instant Turpin fired his pistol, but it missed Mr. Bayes. 
 and shot King in two places. " Dick, you have killed 
 me, make off," were King's words as he fell, and Tur- 
 pin, seeing what he had done, clapped spurs to his 
 horse, and made his escape. King lived for a week 
 afterwards, and gave Turpin the character of a cow- 
 
RICHARD TURPIN. 213 
 
 ard ; telling Mr. Bayes that if he pleased to take him, 
 he was to be found at a certain house near Hackney- 
 Marsh, and that when he rode away, he had three 
 brace of pistols about him, and a carbine slung. Upon 
 inquiry, it was found that Turpin had actually been at 
 the house which King mentioned, and made use of 
 something like the following expressions to the man. 
 "What shall I do? where shall I go? Dick Bayes, 
 I '11 be the death of you ; for I have lost the best fel- 
 lowman I ever had in my life; I shot poor King in 
 endeavoring to kill that dog." The same resolution 
 of revenge he retained to the last, though without the 
 power of effecting it. 
 
 After this, he still kept about the forest, till he was 
 harassed almost to death ; for he had lost his place of 
 safety, the cave, which was discovered upon his shoot- 
 ing Mr. Thompson's groom. When they found the 
 cave, there were in it two shirts in a bag, two pair of 
 stockings, part of a bottle of wine, and some ham. 
 Turpin was very nearly taken while hiding in these 
 woods by a Mr. Ives, the king's huntsman, who, think- 
 ing he was secreted there, took out two dry-footed 
 hounds ; but Turpin perceiving them coming, climbed 
 up a tree, and saw them stop beneath it several times, 
 as though they scented him, which so terrified Turpin, 
 that as soon as they were gone, he made a resolution 
 of retiring that instant to Yorkshire. 
 
 Soon after this, a person came out of Lincolnshire 
 to Brough, near Market-Cave, in Yorkshire, and stayed 
 for some time at the Ferry-house. He said his name 
 was John Palmer ; and he went from thence sometimes 
 to live at North Cave, and sometimes at Welton, con- 
 tinuing in these places about fifteen or sixteen months, 
 except such part of the time as he went to Lincolnshire 
 to see his friends, which he frequently did, and as often 
 brought three or four horses back with him, which he 
 used to sell or exchange in Yorkshire. While he so 
 lived at Brough, Cave, and Welton, he very often went 
 out hunting and shooting with the gentlemen in the 
 neighborhood. As he was" returning one day from 
 
214 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 shooting, he saw one of his landlord's cocks in the 
 street, and raising his gun shot it dead. A man, his 
 neighbor, witnessing so wanton an act, complained of 
 such conduct, asking him by what authority he shot 
 another man's property. " Wait one moment," said 
 Mr. Palmer, " just stay till I have charged my piece, 
 and I '11 shoot you too." The landlord being informed 
 of the loss he had sustained by the death of his favorite 
 bird, and the man who saw the act being enraged at 
 the threat Palmer had used towards him, they both 
 obtained a warrant against him, and he was brought 
 up at the general quarter sessions, where he was 
 examined. Sureties for his good behavior in future 
 were the penalty alone exacted from him, which, how- 
 ever, refusing to find, he was committed to the house 
 of correction. His conduct thus excited great suspi- 
 cion ; for it was strange that a man who was in the 
 habit of bringing from his friends in Lincolnshire half- 
 a-dozen horses at a time, and plenty of money, should 
 be so forsaken as not to be able to provide sure- 
 ties ; and still stranger, that on so trivial an occasion 
 as the present, if he could find them at all, he did not 
 produce them. A man's pride under other circumstan- 
 ces might be concerned, or a consciousness of innocence 
 that excluded the possibility, or the benefit of release, 
 under other conditions than free acquittal ; but on a 
 charge of this nature, which might have been made up 
 even by the purchase of the fowl, or a simple excuse, 
 his refusal was very suspicious. Inquiries were set on 
 foot in all quarters ; and the magistrate, not contented 
 with the accounts he gave of himself of having been a 
 grazier in Lincolnshire, despatched officers to learn how 
 far that statement was consistent with truth. The 
 result was a confirmation of Palmer's account, so far as 
 the fact of his having lived in Lincolnshire, and having 
 been a grazier there ; that is, that there he had some- 
 thing to do with sheep, confined principally, however, 
 to the expert practice of stealing them. Mr. Palmer, 
 upon the receipt of this information, was removed from 
 the Beverly house of correction to York castle, and ac- 
 
RICHARD TURPIN. 215 
 
 commodated on the way with the use of handcuffs, 
 and a guard of honor. When he arrived at his new 
 abode, two persons from Lincolnshire challenged a 
 inare and a foal which he had sold to a gentleman, and 
 also the horse on which he rode when he came to Be- 
 verly, to be stolen from them off the fens in, Lincoln- 
 shire. We need not add that Mr. Palmer was one and 
 the same person with Dick Turpin, the notorious high- 
 wayman. 
 
 Turpin at one time, with another fellow, laid a 
 scheme for seizing the government money, ordered to 
 be paid to tne ships at Portsmouth. Both of them 
 were to have attacked the guard in a narrow pass, 
 with sword and pistol in hand ; but Turpin's courage 
 failed him, and the enterprise dropped. Gordon, his 
 accomplice in this design, was afterwards taken on a 
 charge in which he alone was concerned ; and while 
 in Newgate he declared that " after that, Turpin would 
 be guilty of any cowardly action, and die like a dog." 
 
 Turpin was tried and convicted of stealing the horse 
 and the foal and the mare from the fens, and was ex- 
 ecuted on Saturday, April 7th, 1739. He behaved 
 himself with remarkable assurance, and bowed to the 
 spectators as he passed. It was observed that as he 
 mounted the ladder his right leg trembled, on which he 
 stamped it down with violence, and with undaunted 
 fortitude looked around him. After speaking to the 
 executioner for nearly half an hour, he threw himself 
 off the ladder, and expired in about five minutes. 
 
 His corpse was brought back from the gallows and 
 buried in a neat coffin in St. George's church-yard. 
 The grave was dug deep, and the persons he appointed 
 to follow him (mourners we hesitate to call them, for 
 we cannot imagine anybody to mourn upon the death 
 of such an unprecedented ruffian,) — those persons, who- 
 ever they were, however, took all possible care to se- 
 cure the corpse : notwithstanding which, some men 
 were discovered to be moving off the body, which they 
 had taken up ; and the mob having got information 
 where it might be found, went to a garden in which it 
 
216 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 was deposited, and brought it away in a sort of triumph, 
 and buried it in the same grave, having first filled the 
 coffin with slacked lime. 
 
 HENRY SIMMS, 
 alias YOUNG GENTLEMAN HARRY. 
 
 We prefer giving an abstract of the life and adven- 
 tures of this notorious criminal in his own words, since 
 it will serve to show far better than any moral reflec- 
 tions of our own, that when once the principles become 
 vitiated, whether by early abuse or habitual moral 
 recklessness, the very nature is changed, and the con- 
 science remains in a state of abeyance. There is an 
 easy unconcern, a " young gentleman " flippancy in the 
 style in which our adventurer has chosen to narrate his 
 exploits, that indicates too plainly the utter want of 
 common or decent feeling in his nature, and leaves us 
 to the unavoidable conclusion, that under no possible 
 circumstances, nor in any conceivable condition, could 
 " Young Gentleman Harry " have become or have 
 been made a respectable member of society. He begins 
 his narrative thus : — 
 
 " I am now thirty years of age, born in London, 
 October 19, 1716, of honest industrious parents, in the 
 parish of St. JVIartin's-in-the-Fields. Having the mis- 
 fortune to lose both my father and my mother when 
 very young, I was left to the care of an indulgent 
 grandmother, who tenderly loved me, had me educated 
 with maternal fondness, and early began to instil into 
 me sentiments of virtue, honor and honesty, from which 
 I too early swerved. My grandmother having been 
 many years in the service of a nobleman, was an old 
 servant much respected, and on that account not only in- 
 dulged with having her grandson with her, but was 
 likewise indulged with my being permitted to go to 
 
I i / 
 
 
 HENRY SIMMS. . 217 
 
 Eton school with two sons of the noble lord. I remain- 
 ed at Eton school some time, and even there began to 
 show an early inclination to vice, without an opportu- 
 nity of committing it. When I arrived at the age of 
 fourteen, my grandmother put me apprentice to a 
 breeches-maker, but a life of servitude ill suited my 
 constitution. I stayed with him no longer than a 
 month, in which short time I procured to myself seve- 
 ral choice acquaintances, particularly two (since hang- 
 ed,) and was easily persuaded to accompany them in 
 many robberies, which we committed in and about 
 Mary-le-bone fields, and the money we got we riotously 
 spent among thieves and bullies, and when that was 
 gone, turned out (as we called it) for more. 
 
 " Thus some months passed on in a round of wick- 
 edness which not all the counsel in the universe could 
 restrain. My poor grandmother with tears in her eyes 
 entreated me to leave off my wicked course and to fol- 
 low her instructions. But I little regarded her advice, 
 and still pursued my own schemes, 
 
 " There was hardly a place round London famed for 
 wickedness, but I was there. Tottenham Court Fair, 
 when it came, I rejoiced at, for there I lived riotously, 
 and there too I became a proficient in the dexterous art 
 of picking pockets, by which I gained for some time 
 pretty handsomely. But at length that business grew 
 dead, and, as I lived at a large rate, money was want- 
 ing. Accordingly, having mustered up a sufficient 
 quantity of cash, I purchased a pair of pistols and a 
 horse, and set out ; and in Epping Forest, near Wood- 
 ford, I stopped two gentlemen in a chaise and pair, 
 from whom I took only a little silver, and proceeded on 
 to Newmarket, where I arrived that night, and early 
 next morning set out again, stopped the Norwich coach, 
 and took from the passengers thirty guineas, a gold 
 watch, and a diamond ring, and then rode away ; and 
 about three hours after, near Littlebury, met the Cam- 
 bridge coach, from the passengers of which I took 
 about five pounds, and came on for London. I now 
 began to frequent a noted gaming-hou^e in Covent 
 
 S 
 
218 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 Garden, where, for several nights, I had a prodigious 
 run of luck, and won a considerable sum of money. I 
 bought myself a silver hilted sword, had several new 
 suits of clothes made, particularly one suit of black 
 velvet, and appeared at all my usual haunts with sur- 
 prising eclat. It was at this time I gained the name 
 of l Gentleman Harry,' for though I was before only 
 called plain Harry, yet, on this my sudden grand ap- 
 pearance, I was christened ' Gentleman Harry,' which 
 name I retained forever. But fortune not continuing 
 her favors to me at the gaming-table, I was once more 
 reduced, and obliged to take up again my old trade. 
 Hitherto, what business I had done was by myself; 
 but being out one day with a companion of mine, we 
 agreed to attack the first person we met with powder 
 and shot. We saw nothing for some days that we 
 either cared or dared to attack, till we came to a place 
 called Eversley Bank, where we met a collector of 
 Shrewsbury : we ordered him to stand and deliver, and 
 took from him near three hundred pounds. For this 
 robbery two men were taken up a short time after, 
 tried at the assizes, capitally convicted, and executed : 
 and I cannot but own, that, notwithstanding my hard- 
 ened villany, so often as I remembered it, I felt a good 
 deal of sorrow at being the cause of shedding innocent 
 blood, which I always avoided and abhorred. 
 
 " A bout a month after this, I robbed a lady on Black- 
 heath, in her coach. After this robbery, riding down 
 the hill that leads to Lewisham Wash, I was overtaken 
 by six or seven butchers, one of whom seizing the cape 
 of my coat, pulled me ofT my horse, and the cape 
 giving way, he tore it quite off. I then pulled out my 
 pistols, swearing I would shoot the first man who dared 
 to advance ; which none of them caring to do, I re- 
 treated into the fields and got off with the loss of my 
 horse, which cost me seventeen pounds. But I was not 
 long without a horse, for, going towards Bromley, I met 
 a gentleman on horseback, to whom I presented my 
 pistols, ordering him to dismount or I would shoot him 
 through the head ; which he did, and T took from him 
 
HENRY SIMMS. 219 
 
 eight guineas and seventeen shillings in silvei, and, 
 mounting the horse, left him to pursue his journey on 
 foot. 1 sold the horse the next day at the George, m 
 Farnham, and bought another, which cost me thirteen 
 guineas. From thence I proceeded to Tunbridge, at 
 which place I stayed a day or two, and then came to 
 London, where I found an old companion, a sailor, 
 who agreed to turn out with me. At the bottom of 
 Shooters hill we robbed a gentleman of his gold watch, 
 and about seventeen pounds : the watch 1 afterwards 
 sold for nine pounds at the gaming-table in Covent 
 Garden, and lost the money when I had done. 
 
 " Being by this time pretty well known, I ran great 
 hazards; it was but a very few days after I lost the 
 money as above, I was attacked by several soldiers in 
 Drury Lane, and should have been carried to the Savoy, 
 had I not been rescued by some of my friends from 
 Covent Garden ; and in about a week after that, I was 
 taken out of a tavern for the robbery of a gold watch 
 which I had about me, and was again rescued by my 
 companions. Some little time after this, I was attacked 
 by about nine gentlemen thief-takers, in Bridewell 
 Walk, Clerkenwell, but having my pistols about me, I 
 soon dispersed the cowardly rascals, and walked off. 
 Another time, riding on horseback through Covent 
 Garden, I was pursued by a party of thief-takers, but 
 got clear. 
 
 " Being in this manner continually beset on all sides, 
 1 was at length, by the perfidy of some ladies with 
 whom I was in company at Goodman's Fields' Wells, 
 taken by a parcel of thief-takers, and conducted to 
 Clerkenwell Bridewell, where several prosecutions were 
 commenced against me, and I was obliged to come to a 
 composition with divers of them, which drained me 
 very low. One gentleman in particular, whom I had 
 ^obbed of only eleven shillings and a small medal, 
 made me pay him forty-seven guineas. By these means, 
 having got rid of my several prosecutors, I was, by 
 ov^er of the court of justice, confined in Clerkenwell 
 L> Jewell two months for an assault, at the end of 
 
220 LIVES OF HIGHWAi'MEN AND ROBBERS*. 
 
 which time I was set at liberty, giving sureties for my 
 good behavior for two years. It was not long after T 
 was discharged, before I was pressed and sent on board 
 his majesty's ship the Rye, where I continued for 
 about three months, though much against my inclina- 
 tion ; being continually forming some scheme for an 
 escape, not one of which schemes took effect till the 
 following was hit upon. Whilst we were at Leith, we 
 had pressed several hands out of some colliers, who, I 
 found by talking to, were as little desirous of staying 
 on board as myself; I therefore proposed to eight of 
 them this scheme : — that when the cutter, which had 
 been on shore pressing, came alongside at night, one of 
 them should fall out of the main-chains into the river, 
 and the rest of us should immediately jump into the 
 boat and take the man up, and row away, which we 
 put in practice with success, only, just as we had got 
 up our man, the boatswain jumped on board and 
 threatened us. My companions were for throwing him 
 overboard, but on his promising to be quiet they were 
 overruled, and he was suffered to sit still ; and, not- 
 withstanding several guns were fired after us, we rowed 
 safe to shore, and left the boat to the care of the 
 boatswain to carry back if he thought proper. Being 
 safe on shore, we took leave of each other : they set 
 out for Scarborough, and I for Edinburgh, in which 
 city I stayed about a week, and during that time 
 became acquainted with a Scotch lassie, who not only 
 furnished me with money to purchase my former im- 
 plements, but lent me seven guineas to bear my ex- 
 penses to London, which lasted me no farther than 
 Grantham; and between Grantham and Stamford I 
 was obliged to speak with the York stage, from the 
 passengers of which I took eight guineas, about seven- 
 teen shillings in silver, a silver watch and three plain 
 gold rings, with which I came to London. 
 
 "In a short space of time after this, I committed 
 many robberies by myself, which I did not exactly 
 minute down. My general rendezvous was about 
 Epping Forest, where I robbed the Harwich coach, thb 
 
HENRY SIMMS. 221 
 
 Cambridge coach, the Norwich coach, &c., to a pretty 
 large amount, which I spent as fast as I got. About 
 this time, I kept company with another man's wife, 
 who was so fond of me, that I could persuade her either 
 out of cash or any valuables she had, to supply my 
 present necessities ; as was the case when I persuaded 
 her out of her gold watch, and some other things, 
 which her husband took me up upon, and I was com- 
 mitted to Newgate, tried at the Old Bailey, and ac- 
 quitted by the court, who very justly saw through the 
 prosecution. After my being discharged on this affair, 
 I unluckily, in a quarrel, ran a crab-stick into a 
 woman's eye in Goodman's-fields, for which I was sent 
 to New Prison. In the mean time, I was informed that 
 the wife was arrested on an action, and sent to a spong- 
 ing-house. Being determined to relieve her, if possi- 
 ble, I contrived in what manner I could make my 
 escape, and, accordingly, by the help of sheets I let 
 myself down out of my window and got off: I imme- 
 diately went to a friend of mine in Leather-iane, who 
 furnished me with two pistols, with which I went to 
 the sponging-house in Gray's-inn-lane, expecting to 
 find my lady; but when I came there I found she had 
 been removed to Newgate. Being thus disappointed, 
 and having no hopes of getting her out of Newgate, I 
 determined to go to work at my old trade. 
 
 "In Broad-street, St. Giles', about nine at night, I 
 stopped a coach which contained a single gentleman, 
 from whom I took about seventeen shillings, and from 
 thence went to my old haunts in Covent Garden, and 
 after drinking pretty freely, I had a quarrel with a 
 gentleman, who calling the watch to his assistance, I 
 was taken and carried to the Covent Garden round- 
 house. Being very much fuddled, I soon went to sleep; 
 but when I waked next morning, and found myself in 
 a prison, after having escaped from one but the night 
 before, I was almost distracted, and began to contrive 
 an escape, but to no purpose ; for after calling for the 
 keeper of the round-house, under pretence of beiug 
 hungry, I got some toast and ale, and therewith & 
 
222 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS 
 
 knife, with which I hoped once more to make a breach 
 whereby to escape. But 1 was doomed to be disap- 
 pointed ; for notwithstanding my cutting down the 
 plaster and laths of the ceiling, the joists were so firm 
 that I could not make an opening. I then grew des- 
 perate, broke all the things I could find in the room, 
 cut the sheets to pieces, pulled off some tiles from the 
 roof, and did every offensive act in my power, till at 
 length the constable with a large posse of myrmidons 
 arrived, who carried me before Sir Thomas De Veil, 
 where, after a long examination, I laid my information 
 of the robbery of Mr. Smith in Southwark, which rob- 
 bery I was actually concerned in, though not wkh the 
 persons I swore against at Croydon assizes, but with 
 three others. We committed the robbery in December 
 1745, getting in at the two-pair-of-stairs window by a 
 Jacob, that is, a ladder of ropes, which was fixed to the 
 sign-post first, drawn afterwards into the balcony, and 
 then attached to the two-pair-of-stairs window. We 
 took from Mr. Smith's house, after frightening Mrs. 
 Smith almost to death, two bags of money containing- 
 514/. and a 201. bank note, and carried off in bags goods 
 to the value of 800/. The cash we divided equally 
 amongst us at a house in the Mint; the plate we sold ; 
 and we carried the goods to a house near the Pinder of 
 Wakefield, near Pancras ; but for my share of the goods 
 I never received one penny ; they were carried to Ire- 
 land by my three accomplices, who promised to remit 
 me my part, but were never so good as their words. 
 After my examination I was removed to the New 
 Gaol, Southwark, to give evidence at the assizes at 
 Croydon. 
 
 "After this affair at Croydon, I was removed by 
 habeas to Newgate, on the oath of a barber at West- 
 minster, whom I had robbed, which barber was found 
 out by some of my enemies to prosecute me; and upon 
 his indictment I was tried, found guilty, and sentenced 
 to transportation; and, about two months after, was 
 with several other convicts put on board the Italian 
 Merchant, which carried us to Maryland. On our 
 
HENRY SIMMS. 223 
 
 4 
 
 passage I had formed several plans for an escape, one 
 of which had nearly been successful, and was agreed 
 upon between me and the rest of the transports. We 
 were at a certain time to have secured the captain and 
 sailors, as well as the fire-arms, and to have run away 
 with the ship, but one of them discovered it to the 
 captain, who put us in irons, and kept a watchful eye 
 on us during the remainder of the voyage. When we 
 arrived at Maryland, I was disposed of to the master 
 of the Two Sisters, who was in want of sailors, and 
 with whom I went to sea. We had not been out many 
 days before we were taken by a privateer of Bayonne, 
 and carried into Spain. We were all sent on shore, 
 and had papers given to us to go to Portugal. When 
 I arrived at Oporto, I was pressed on board his majes- 
 ty's ship the King Fisher, where I remained about four 
 months, in which time we took several prizes. But 
 not liking my station, I left her at Oporto, travelled to 
 Lisbon, and got in the Hanover packet to Falmouth, 
 where I stayed about a month. My companions enV 
 deavored to persuade me to go a privateering with them 
 in the Warner galley; but I refused, and leaving Fal- 
 mouth travelled to St. Ives, where I found a vessel 
 ready to sail for Bristol, on board of which I went, and 
 arrived at Bristol in two days. I was not long there 
 before I determined to set up my old trade, and pro- 
 cured a pair of pistols, though I still wanted a horse ; 
 but having observed several horses in a field near 
 Lawford's-gate, I soon marked out one for myself, and 
 that night got into a stable, from whence I stole a 
 saddle and bridle, and without much difficulty caught 
 my horse and set out for London. 
 
 " When I reached London, 1 was soon informed the 
 thief-takers were after me. The night I came to town, 
 I put my horse up at the White Swan in Whitechapel, 
 but went no more near him, fearful, as I had stolen 
 him, he might be advertised. But J was not long 
 without a horse, for one Saturday right, about eight 
 o'clock, coming from St. James', where I had been 
 regaling with some friends, I perc.ived a boy in Rider 
 
224 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 street walking a horse about, apparently waiting for 
 somebody. 1 called and persuaded him to step on an 
 errand into Duke street while I held the horse, and, 
 as soon as the boy was gone, I mounted and rode 
 away, and crossing the country reached Harrow-on- 
 the-Hill, where I passed the night, and the next day 
 set out towards London, in hopes of meeting some of 
 the farmers returning from the hay-markets after hav- 
 ing sold their hay. I had drank pretty freely at dinner 
 and was somewhat elevated. I had not ridden far 
 before I met three gentlemen, whom I commanded to 
 { stand and deliver their money,' which they did very 
 quietly. From the first I got about three pounds, from 
 the second I had about five pounds, and from the third 
 thirteen or fourteen shillings. 
 
 " The next person I robbed was Mr. Sleep, my pro- 
 secutor, and though neither he nor I recognised each 
 other at that time, yet he, it seems, has known me from 
 a child. I took from him his watch and six shillings, 
 and made off. 
 
 "After robbing Mr. Sleep, I still kept travelling 
 towards London, in hopes of meeting the farmers ; at 
 length, five of them appeared, whom I commanded ' to 
 stop,' and took from them about 151. in silver. I felt 
 in their pockets for watches, but they had none. Next 
 I met three men, whom I ordered ' to stop f but they, 
 not regarding my orders, refused, and rode full speed, 
 and I alongside of them for at least five or six minutes, 
 presenting my pistol, swearing I would shoot if they 
 did not stop : but they still rode on ; and I turned from 
 them, giving them a hearty d — n, not caring to kt off 
 my pistol; for I had determined to shoot no man, 
 unless he attempted to take me. But after this, on the 
 same road, I robbed two more men ; from one I took 
 about fifteen shillings, from another about seven shil- 
 lings. Turning from them I let off one of my pistols 
 into the air, and went on for London. 
 
 " That night I made a sort of perambulation among 
 the thief-takers, determining to do mischief to some of 
 them, if possible, especially to those who, I heard, had 
 
HENRY SIMMS. 225 
 
 been after me. The first I went to was one W. H. in 
 Chancery-lane. Being on horseback, I knocked at the 
 door, which his wife opened, demanding my business. 
 I told her, ' to speak with her husband.' She replied, 
 ' he was gone to bed,' at the same time desiring to 
 know my name and business. '1 am a gentleman 
 of his acquaintance,' said I ; 'he will know me when 
 he sees me.' My blunderbuss, which I then carried, 
 being mounted with brass, and having a brass barrel, 
 by the light of her candle she perceived it, and directly 
 slapped to the door, called to her husband and told him 
 (mentioning my name) that I was at the door. I could 
 hear him ask for his piece, on which 1 cried out, ' You 
 rascal, come to the door, and I '11 piece you ;' and if he 
 had come I should certainly have killed him, but he 
 thought better of it, and I rode away. 
 
 11 From my friend H. I went to another of the same 
 sort of gentry in Holborn, one I. S. I got off my horse 
 and went into his house threatening destruction ; but the 
 moment he saw me enter at one door, he went out at 
 another, and after venting a few oaths, I remounted 
 my horse, and went to the Greyhound inn, in Drury- 
 lane, where I lay that night. 
 
 " Next morning I set out for Epping Forest, and 
 dined at the Bird-in-Hand, atStiatford: after dinner, 
 about two o'clock, I set out on the Romford road. I 
 met in the forest a chaise, and from a man therein took 
 about fourteen shillings. This robbery was done with- 
 in sight of the Spread Eagle, at the door of which seve- 
 ral people were drinking on horseback. From thence 
 I rode through Ilford, then came' on the forest again, 
 and stayed till it was almost dark, and rode towards 
 Laytonstone, within half a mile of which I robbed a 
 captain of his gold watch, ten guineas, and some silver. 
 After speaking with the captain, I came off the forest 
 for London. Perceiving a hurly-burly, and a great mob 
 at Snaresbrook turnpike, I rode up to see what was 
 the matter, and on inquiry amongst the mob, found 
 that they had stopped a gentleman whom they mistook 
 for me. As it was dark and they could not distinguish 
 
226 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 me, I thought it most prudent to ride through the turn- 
 pike, and go directly for London, which I did, and 
 putting up my horse at the Saracen's Head, Aldgate, 
 and calling a coach, I went to a tavern, where 1 lay all 
 night. 
 
 " In the morning I began to reflect that, it being well 
 known I was in England returned from transportation, 
 and as well known too that I had committed a great 
 many robberies, there were many thief- takers after me, 
 and I was surrounded with danger; and I therefore 
 determined to set out for Chester immediately, and 
 from thence to Dublin, resolving, as I had now a hand- 
 some sum, as well as a parcel of diamond rings and 
 watches, to live entirely on my stock, and rob no more, 
 at least while that lasted. I dined that day at St. 
 Alban's, and as I generally drank both at and after my 
 meals pretty freely, 1 soon grew warm, and after din- 
 ner, setting out for Dunstable, I found my resolution to 
 rob no more would not hold, for within a quarter of a 
 mile of Redbourne, I ordered three gentlemen to stand 
 and deliver. Presenting my pistol at the first, he re- 
 plied, that he would not be robbed, and rode on ; the 
 second hit me on the head with his whip, and at the 
 same time the other rode by me. Having a good beast 
 under me, I was quickly up with them, and putting on 
 one of my terrible countenances, with bitter impreca- 
 tions I avowed that I would instantly shoot the first 
 man dead who refused to deliver ; when the first of 
 them quietly gave me about nine shillings ; from the 
 second I took an old-fashioned watch and seventeen 
 shillings ; and from the third, two guineas and about 
 five shillings ; and taking my leave immediately, at- 
 tacked two more gentlemen, who likewise rode for it; 
 but their horses being as good as mine, I ran them into 
 Redbourne, and then gave it up. About an hour after, 
 I stopped a single man on horseback, who telling me 
 he had but eighteen-pence, I bade him keep that ; but 
 he seeming to have a very good horse and mine begin- 
 ning to fail, I made him dismount and change with 
 me. He had a portmanteau on his horse, which he 
 
 / 
 
HENRY SIMMS. 227 
 
 was very industriously going to take off, but I told him 
 he might as well let it remain where it was, which he 
 did, though I had no opportunity to see what was in it; 
 for being now become, perhaps, one of the most indus- 
 trious of my profession, I could no more let a coach, 
 chaise, or man go by without speaking with them in 
 my way, than I could fly; and perceiving a coach 
 coming along, which proved to te the Warrington 
 stage, I directly made up to it, and got from the pas- 
 sengers therein about three pounds. The ladies seemed 
 terribly frightened, and begged I would take my pistol 
 away, which I did, and after taking their money I 
 went on for Dunstable, and calling at several houses 
 before I got there, I became pretty fatigued, not only 
 with my business, but with liquor too. Being very 
 much fuddled, I was so cunning as to think of putting 
 up at the Bull inn, at Dunstable, the very house where 
 the Warrington coach went to. After dismounting my 
 horse, and calling for a quartern of brandy, I saw 
 some of the passengers in the kitchen, belonging to the 
 coach I had just then robbed, on which, I never stayed 
 for my brandy, but went out of the house, mounted 
 my horse, and rode as fast as I could make him go, 
 till I came to Hockliffe, and as it rained very hard, I 
 resolved to put up, and accordingly went into the Star 
 inn. After I had been there about an hour, and had 
 drank very freely, I became intoxicated, and fell asleep 
 by the kitchen fire ; but was soon awakened by three 
 troopers and some others with pistols at my head, 
 swearing they would shoot me if I offered to put my 
 hand to my pockets. Being half asleep as well as 
 drunk, they soon disarmed me, and took from me one 
 gold watch, two silver ones, four diamond rings, forty- 
 seven guineas in gold, and four pounds in silver: three 
 of the best diamond rings I had secreted in my neck- 
 cloth. I desired them to give me my money again, and 
 to let me go to bed ; they gave me about nine pounds 
 in gold and silver back, and then conducted me to a 
 chamber, where I went to bed, after putting my money 
 under my pillow, and fell asleep, guarded by the troop- 
 
228 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 ers, who took my money from under my head, which, 
 when I awoke and missed, I charged them with, telling 
 them it was using me exceedingly ill indeed, as they 
 had gotten so much from me already, to take that from 
 me too; whereupon, they returned it tome. Presently, 
 I got up and sat by the fire-side, a good deal chagrined 
 at my unfortunate fate. I resolved in my mind a thou- 
 sand different methods of escape, but none appeared 
 feasible even to myself. At length, a thought came 
 into my head, of which I was resolved to make a trial. 
 As I knew these troopers, from their behavior, to be 
 hungry hounds, and having two seals, the one gold, 
 and the other silver, about me ; as I sat over the fire, I 
 determined to throw them in, naturally supposing, from 
 their eagerness after plunder, they would endeavor to 
 get them out, and I might thus, by some means or 
 other, become master of their fire-arms. It happened 
 as I had imagined ; eager for their piey they soused 
 down to rake them from the ashes, when I, at the 
 same time, snatched a pistol from one of their hands, 
 and snapped it at his head : it missed fire, and I was 
 immediately overpowered by the rest of the troopers, 
 the landlord and others coming to their assistance ; 
 and I was the next day carried before the justice at 
 Dunstable, where I insisted upon the troopers returning 
 me my money and watches again, before I would 
 answer any questions, and, accordingly, I undressed 
 their pockets both of money and watches, asking them 
 if they thought I had nothing else to do than to venture 
 my life to dress the pockets of such fellows as they, 
 who knew not how to wind up a watch ; for in endea- 
 voring to wind up one of the watches they had broken it. 
 
 " I was eventually committed to Bedford gaol for 
 robbing the Warrington stage-coach, where I remained 
 about four months, till I was removed by habeas corpus 
 to Newgate, and in February last was tried at the Old 
 Bailey for robbing Mr. Francis Sleep of his watch and 
 six shillings, of which I was found guilty, and received 
 sentence of death." 
 
 The above is an abstract containing all the most 
 
JAMES MACLAINE. 229 
 
 interesting or prominent transactions in the life of 
 Henry Simms, who appears to have labored in his 
 vocation with a zeal worthy of a better calling, and 
 with a wantonness deserving of the gallows to which, 
 at length, he was compelled to ascend. Young Gentle- 
 man Harry was executed at Tyburn in June, 1747; 
 and after hanging till he was dead, his body was cut 
 down by a mob appointed for that purpose, and carried 
 to a surgeon's in Co vent Garden. 
 
 JAMES MACLAINE. 
 
 James Maclaine, called in his own time by the dis- 
 tinguished title of " the gentleman highwayman,' 7 
 seemed at his birth to be far removed from the common 
 temptations which too frequently lead to an infamous 
 death. Until the decease of his father, which took 
 place when he was about eighteen years of age, a fair 
 prospect of prosperity was presented to him ; but, un- 
 happily, being conscious of his birth, which entitled 
 him, by a slight straining of courtesy, to the designa- 
 tion of a gentleman, he imbibed, together with an 
 inordinate vanity, an aversion from business, and an 
 immoderate desire to appear a gay young fellow. 
 
 Lauchlin Maclaine, the father of our adventurer, 
 was a Presbyterian divine, and pastor of a congregation 
 of that communion at Monaghan, in the North of Ire- 
 land. He designed James, his second son, for a mer- 
 chant, and bestowed upon him a sound education, but 
 died before he could put his intentions into effect of 
 sending him to Rotterdam to be placed in the counting- 
 house of a Scotch merchant of his acquaintance. 
 
 Young Maclaine, the instant his father's breath was 
 out of his body, proceeded to take possession and to 
 dispose of his father's substance ; and tieated with 
 T 
 
230 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 perfect contempt the remonstrances of his friends and 
 relations, and the exhortations of his aunt, who, find- 
 ing all her entreaties ineffectual, took his only sister 
 into her charge, and left him to pursue what course he 
 pleased. 
 
 Thus left to himself, Maclaine forgot altogether the 
 projected Dutch counting-house, and equipping himself 
 in the gayest apparel that part of the country could 
 afford, and purchasing a gelding, set up fine gentleman 
 at once, and in a twelvemonth dissipated almost the 
 whole of his property. During his extravagances, 
 however, his ear had been frequently troubled with the 
 remonstrances of his aunt and his other relations, 
 which at length he found so disagreeable, that he was 
 fain to set out for Dublin without communicating his 
 intention to any one. It was here, it appears, that he 
 first conceived the notion of making his fortune by 
 marriage; and having no disagreeable person, he gra- 
 tuitously gave himself credit for many more excellen- 
 cies than, unfortunately, other people could discover in 
 him. The demands for the maintenance of such an 
 appearance as would realize his hopes of a rich mar- 
 riage, soon swept away the small remainder of his 
 property; and he had now full time to reflect on his 
 folly and vanity, and to regret not a little having des- 
 pised the advice of his relations, who had for some time 
 turned a deaf ear to his entreaties by letter for a supply 
 of money. But upon them, nevertheless, he felt was 
 now his sole dependence. He had long spent his all — 
 he was an entire stranger to a single individual of 
 worth or substance in the place, and his credit and 
 clothes, even to the last shirt, were gone. Selling his 
 sword, therefore, the last piece of splendor that remain- 
 ed to him, he raised as much as would bear his charges 
 on foot, and with a heavy heart set out to return to 
 Monaghan, his native place. 
 
 Not a hand was outstretched to welcome the prodi- 
 gal home again ; his aunt refused to see him, all his 
 other relations followed her example, and the compan- 
 ions of his former riots not only refused him relief, but 
 
JAMES MACLAINE. 231 
 
 tendered him the sport and ridicule of the town. His 
 sister, however, sometimes contrived to see him by 
 stealth to give him her pocket money, but that could 
 not long support him. Here, then, he must inevitably 
 have starved, had not a gentleman on his way to Eng- 
 land, passing through the town, compassionately offered 
 him the place of a servant who had recently died. 
 Want, and the dread of starving, had by this time 
 entirely banished all unnecessary or superfluous pride, 
 and our young gentleman accepted the offer with joy. 
 But, unhappily, the extreme pressure of want once 
 removed, old thoughts return, old vanities are renewed ; 
 and so it was with Mr. Maclaine. His master's com- 
 mands, though uniformly softened by good-nature and 
 benevolence, appeared to him as so many insults offered 
 to his birth and breeding ; it is no wonder, therefore, 
 that in a few months he was discharged from his ser- 
 vice. Depending on his sister, who was about to be mar- 
 ried to a man of some wealth, he set out once more for 
 Ireland, to endeavor to obtain enough from his relations 
 to fit him out for America, or the West Indies ; but 
 here again he was doomed to disappointment. His 
 sister's marriage had been broken off — she was unable to 
 do anything for him ; — and his other relations, deeming 
 themselves scandalized by his having been a footman, 
 were even less tractable than before, treated him with 
 great indignity, and finally refused all manner of 
 assistance. 
 
 Again reduced to starvation, he was obliged to 
 think of service as his only resource. , With much 
 difficulty he obtained a situation as butler to a gen- 
 tleman neai Cork, with whom he did not live long, 
 being discharged for some breach of trust. Here he 
 remained for many months out of place, wandering 
 about, without any settled abode or means of subsis- 
 tence, except occasional remittances from his elder 
 brother, a pastor of the English congregation at the 
 Hague, whose friendly assistance was less relished, 
 because it was accompanied by warm remonstrances 
 
232 LIVES OF HIGhWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 on the past, and wholesome advice on the future con- 
 duct of his life. 
 
 Fortune was at length favorable; his old master, 
 though he refused him a character to another family, 
 generously paid his passage to England, and allowed 
 him, for a limited period after his landing, a shilling a 
 day for subsistence. 
 
 Once again on this side of the water, his notions of 
 gentility returned ; he scorned being a menial servant; 
 and valuing the minimum of his ambition at a pair of 
 colors, he actually had the impudence to attempt to 
 borrow the purchase money on the bond he had ob- 
 tained from his master.. This absurd scheme failing, 
 he threw up his shilling a day in disgust, and heroic- 
 ally cast himself for support on a celebrated courtesan, 
 a countrywoman of his own, who maintained him for 
 some months in great magnificence, and enabled him 
 to attend the public places with something like splen- 
 dor. 
 
 But having disgusted this lady by his pusillanimous 
 conduct in a rencontre with a certain peer, — who 
 bestowed upon him a severe castigation, and very 
 nearly ran him through the body, though he was much 
 stronger, and as well armed as the nobleman, — he was 
 once more without resources. His grandeur now suf- 
 fered an eclipse for two or three months, and his last 
 suit had been laid by in lavender, or, in other words, 
 pawned, when he inspired the regard of a lady of 
 quality, the consequence of which was that for five or 
 six months longer he flourished away as an idle fellow 
 in all the public places. 
 
 But Maclaine inwardlv was not idle. He was ex- 
 tremeiy anxious for an independent settlement, and 
 the thought of inveigling some woman of fortune by 
 the charms of his person was still uppermost in his 
 mind. Among other schemes to this end, there was 
 none he built so much upon as a very hopeful and 
 grateful plot he had laid for the daughter of his patron- 
 ess and benefactress, who had a considerable fortune. 
 But the young lady's waiting-maid, who had either 
 
JAMES MACLAINE. 233 
 
 more honesty than abigails in general are furnished 
 with, or had not received the price with which they 
 are usually rewarded, discovered the affair tu the old 
 lady, who forthwith dismissed Maclaine from her ser- 
 vice : but when, in a few months after, he was much 
 reduced, she privately bestowed upon him fifty pounds 
 in order to fit him out for Jamaica, where he had pro- 
 posed to go and seek his fortune, and where the lady 
 was willing enough that he should retire, that she 
 might be free from fears on her daughter's account. 
 
 But Maclaine was no sooner possessed of this sum 
 than he forgot his Jamaica expedition, and returned to 
 his favorite scheme of fortune-hunting; for he never 
 could rid himself of the idea that one day or other he 
 should succeed in the main object of his existence. He 
 released, therefore, his best clothes from the durance 
 vile in which they had been plunged, and after va- 
 rious treaties with match-makers and chambermaids, 
 relating to ladies of great reputed fortune, all which 
 treaties ended in disappointment, he reluctantly con- 
 tracted his ambition, and made suit to the daughter of 
 a considerable innkeeqer and dealer in horses, with 
 whom he was fortunate enough to succeed, and whom 
 he married with her parents' consent and five hundred 
 pounds. 
 
 Here it would seem that Maclaine had laid aside all 
 thoughts of the fine gentleman, and had really deter- 
 mined to make the most of his wife's fortune by indus- 
 try and diligence. He took a house in Welbeck street, 
 and set up a grocer's and chandler's shop; was very 
 obliging to his customers, punctual in his dealings, and 
 while his wife lived, was esteemed by his neighbors a 
 careful and industrious man. However, though at 
 times, and while he was in his shop, he appeared to 
 like his business, yet in parties of pleasure, which he 
 made but too often, and on holydays, he affected the 
 dress of a gentleman, and thus created expenses which 
 only a gradual encroachment on his capital enabled 
 him to meet ; insomuch that when his wife died, which 
 was about three years after their marriage, he resolved 
 
234 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 to leave off business, and converted his furniture and 
 goods into the miserable sum of eighty-five pounds, 
 which, perhaps, with frugality, might have supported 
 him in business, but which was at all times too small 
 a sum for Mr. Maclaine. 
 
 His mother-in-law consenting to take charge of his 
 only daughter, and once more in a manner a single 
 man, with his eighty-five pounds in his pocket, again 
 did the desire of appearing the gay fine gentleman ob- 
 trude itself upon his mind, and his old project of mar- 
 rying a rich fortune engrossed all his faculties. For 
 this purpose, Mr. Maclaine, who but a few weeks be- 
 fore was not ashamed to appear in a patched coat, or 
 to carry a halfpenny-worth of coal or sand to his cus- 
 tomers, now hired handsome apartments near Soho 
 square, and resumed his laced clothes, and a hat and 
 feather. 
 
 But, however unreasonable to others this sudden 
 transition from the grub to the butterfly might appear, 
 Mr. Maclaine had very good private reasons for his 
 actions. It appears that during his wife's last illness, 
 she had been attended by one Plunket, as a surgeon 
 and apothecary; this Plunket, after the decease of the 
 poor woman, opened his mind to Maclaine, saying, 
 that though the latter had lost a good wife, yet, seeing 
 that she was gone, it was of no use to despond or to 
 repine, particularly as it might eventually turn out the 
 most lucky circumstance in his life. He added at the 
 same time, that if Maclaine would agree to share the 
 fortune with him, he could help him to a lady with ten 
 thousand pounds at least in her own right. 
 
 This motion was too agreeable to Mr. Maclaine to be 
 rejected. It is hardly necessary to detail with what 
 zeal this affair was followed up, or how often they flat- 
 tered themselves with the deceitful prospects of success. 
 The young lady having been taken to Wells, Maclaine 
 followed her, passing for a man of fortune, and in every 
 part of his dress and equipage appearing in that charac- 
 ter. Plunket acted as his partner, and was a sort of 
 under agent, while Maclaine himself was ogling, danc- 
 
JAMES MACLA1NE. 235 
 
 mg, and flirting with the young lady. But an ill-timed 
 quarrel with an apothecary, one evening, in the public 
 room, placed a quietus upon his hopes for ever; for the 
 disciple of Galen enlisting a " gallant son of Mars" in 
 his quarrel, the latter had the effrontery to kick our 
 adventurer down stairs, declaring publicly that he 
 knew the rascal a footman a few years ago. This 
 statement, which was believed by every body present, 
 amongst whom was his mistress, whose credulity he 
 had ascertained before, and was therefore not in a situ- 
 ation to doubt, compelled him and his footman Plunket 
 to decamp without the ceremony of leave-taking, and, 
 indeed, without any ceremony at all. 
 
 Returning to town from this woeful expedition, and 
 examining the state of their cash, these faithful friends 
 discovered that five guineas were the whole that re- 
 mained, — a sum too little to support them, or to enter 
 into any new project, or to keep up their assumed 
 grandeur. Madame now found himself in a worse 
 plight than he had brought himself to for some years 
 past, without any visible hope of a supply, and yet 
 engaged in a mode of life highly expensive, which it 
 went to his heart either to retrench or relinquish. He 
 now thought seriously of embarking for Jamaica, where 
 he hoped to find employment as an accountant, and 
 flattered himself that his person might be turned to ac- 
 count amongst the rich planters' daughters or widows. 
 But no money was forthcoming for this purpose, nor 
 could he think of any possible scheme whereby it might 
 be raised. 
 
 Certainly, never had man less cause to complain of 
 Fortune than Maclaine, and it would seem throughout, 
 his life, that she had determined to make his ruin en- 
 tirely the work of his own hand, and leave him at last 
 utterly without excuse or palliation ; for meeting on 
 'Change with a gentleman, a countryman of his own, 
 to whom he had formerly related his hopes of making 
 a fortune in the manner we have related, he told him 
 his situation at the present moment, adding that he 
 was now undone, that he had spent his all in that un- 
 
 10 
 
3$J LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 happy project, and had not wherewithal to subsist on 
 here, or to carry him from a place in which he felt he 
 was cutting a very ridiculous figure. Hereupon the 
 gentleman spoke in his behalf to some others of his 
 countrymen ; and as his conduct heretofore, according 
 the notions of the age, had been rather imprudent than 
 vicious, they actually raised sixty guineas to fit him 
 out for Jamaica, which they gave him, promising him 
 letters of recommendation from some merchants of re- 
 spectability to their own correspondents. Here, then, 
 was a prospect at once opened to him of future happi- 
 ness and prosperity. Let us see how it terminated. 
 
 He had agreed for the passage, paid part of the mo- 
 ney in advance, and bespoken some necessaries fitted 
 for the climate, when, unhappily for the infatuated 
 man, he was prompted to go to a masquerade, to take 
 leave, as he said, for the last time, of the bewitching 
 pleasures of London, and to bid a final farewell to this 
 species of enjoyment, which he should have no hope of 
 partaking in the West Indies. He went with the whole 
 of his money in his pocket. The strange appearance 
 of the place and of the company amused him for a 
 while, but the noise of the gamesters drew his attention 
 to the gaming-table, where the quick transition of large 
 sums from one hand to another awakened his avarice, 
 and lulled his prudence asleep. In short, he ventured, 
 and in half an hour had possessed himself of a hundred 
 guineas, with which he resolved, according to their 
 phrase, "to tie up;" but avarice had now attacked 
 him ; and after taking a turn or two round the room, 
 he again returned, and in a few minutes was stripped 
 to the last guinea. 
 
 It is needless to describe his agony on this occasion. 
 His money gone, his expedition utterly disconcerted, 
 and his friends lost past redemption ! What was now 
 to be done ? 
 
 In this extremity, his evil genius, now in the ascend 
 ant, prompted him to send to Plunket to advise with 
 and from that moment his ruin commenced. This wai 
 the favorable moment for Plunket. Himself a man of 
 
JAMES MACLAINE. 237 
 
 no honor, an utter stranger to all ties or principles of 
 religion or honesty, an old sharper, and a daring fellow 
 into the bargain, this was an opportunity, when his 
 friend was agitated almost to madness, to propose, at 
 first by distant hints, and at last in plain English, go- 
 ing on the highway. 
 
 Had he approached him in a calm hour, it is more 
 than probable that his proposal had been rejected with 
 horror; but the former strongly represented the neces- 
 sity of a speedy supply before his friends could discover 
 that his money was gone, which, he said, would expose 
 him to universal scorn and contempt. A strange in- 
 fatuation, the dread of shame — the shame of appearing 
 a fool, diminished the horror of being a villain, and 
 decided him to recruit his losses by means the most 
 hazardous and wicked. 
 
 Having agreed upon a plan of copartnership, and 
 hired two horses, Plunket furnishing the pistols, for 
 this was not his first entrance upon business of that 
 nature, they set out on the evening after the masque- 
 rade, to lie in wait for passengers coming from Smith- 
 field market. They met on Hounslow heath with a 
 grazier, next morning about four o'clock, from whom 
 they took, without opposition, between sixty and se- 
 venty pounds. 
 
 In this, and other expeditions of the same kind, they 
 wore Venetian masks ; but this covering could not stifle 
 conscience in Maclaine, nor animate him into courage. 
 He accompanied Plunket, it is true, and was by at 
 the robbery, but, strictly speaking, had no hand in it; 
 for his fears were so great that he had no power to 
 utter a word, or to draw a pistol. The least resistance 
 on the part of the countryman would have given wings 
 to his heels, and have caused him to leave his more 
 daring accomplice in the lurch. 
 
 Even when the robbery was over, and the country- 
 man out of sight, Maclaine's fears were intolerable. 
 He followed Plunket for some miles without speaking 
 a word ; and when they put up at an inn, nearly ten 
 miles from the place of the robbery, he called for a 
 
238 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 private room, fearful of every shadow, and terrified at 
 every sound. His agonies of mind were so great, that 
 Plunket was fearful that his folly would raise suspicion 
 in the house, and he would fain have persuaded him to 
 return immediately to London ; but he would not stir 
 till it was dusk, and then would not appear at the sta- 
 bles from which they had hired the horses, but left the 
 care of them to Plunket. 
 
 He was now, by his share of this ill-acquired booty, 
 very nearly reimbursed his losses at the masquerade, 
 and might easily have undertaken his voyage ; but he 
 had lost all peace of mind, and was become entirely 
 void of prudence. So great was his dread of a disco- 
 very, though Plunket represented the impossibility of 
 it, that he would not stir out of his room for some days, 
 and even then did not think himself safe, but proposed 
 going down to the country for a week or two. Plunket 
 did not oppose his departure, especially as he was to 
 direct the route, and had gotten some intimation of a 
 prize coming that day from St. Alban's, towards which 
 place they set out. When they had gone a few miles, 
 Plunket imparted to him his design, which Maclaine 
 promised to second, with a great deal of reluctance. 
 When they came within sight of the coach, in which 
 was their expected K oty, Maclaine would have per- 
 suaded Plunket to desist; but the other turning his 
 qualms of conscience into ridicule, and dropping some 
 hints of cowardice, Maclaine prepared for the attack, 
 crying, " He needs must whom the devil drives. I am 
 over shoes, and must over boots ;" but, notwithstand- 
 ing, conducted himself in so distracted a manner as 
 went nigh to lose them their prey. They took, how- 
 ever, from a gentleman and a lady in the coach two 
 gold watches, and about twenty pounds in money, with 
 which they got clear off; but did not think fit to keep 
 that road any longer, but turned off, and before morn- 
 ing put up at an inn at Richmond, where Maclaine 
 was as much in the horrors as in London ; had no rest, 
 no peace of mind, and stayed there two or three days, 
 sulky, sullen, and perplexed as to what course he was 
 
JAMES MACLAINE. 239 
 
 to pursue. His wish, however, to be in town in time 
 for the ship's departure for Jamaica, determined him to 
 return to London in a foitnight, when he found that the 
 ship had sailed two days before, — a disappointment 
 that added to his former perplexity. Nevertheless, 
 having money in his pocket, he contrived to excuse 
 himself to his friends for his untoward absence, and 
 promised, and seriously designed, to set out on the very 
 next opportunity. 
 
 But the expensive company he kept in the interim, 
 and further losses at play, once more stripped him of 
 his money; and his evil genius, Plunket, was ever at 
 his elbow, ready to suggest the former method of sup- 
 ply, with which he now complied much less reluctantly 
 than before. The bounds of honor once overstepped, 
 especially when success and security attend the villany, 
 the habit of vice grows strong; and the checks of con- 
 science, gradually less regarded, at length pass without 
 notice. In a word, Maclaine hardened himself by de- 
 grees to villany, left the company of his city acquaint- 
 ance that they might not tease him about his voyage 
 to Jamaica, and took lodgings in St. James street, a 
 place excellently suited to his purpose, for his appear- 
 ance glanced off all suspicion, and he had a favorable 
 opportunity, when gentlemen came to town, of know- 
 ing and watching their motions, and consequently of 
 following and waylaying them on the road. 
 
 In the space of six months, he and Plunket, some- 
 times in company and sometimes separately, committed 
 fifteen or sixteen robberies in Hyde Park, and within 
 twenty miles of London, and obtained some large 
 prizes. But still the money went as it came, for Plun- 
 ket loved his bottle and intrigue, and Maclaine was 
 doatingly fond of fine clothes, balls, and masquerades, 
 at all which places he made a conspicuous figure. As 
 he still had fortune-hunting in view, he was very assi- 
 duous in his attentions to women, and was not altoge- 
 ther unsuccessful ; but, we imagine, made sincere re- 
 turn to none but such as had money in their own hands, 
 or could be useful in helping him to an introduction to 
 such as had. 
 
240 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 And here it were needless and not productive of 
 much interest to recount several intrigues in which 
 Maclaine was engaged, and it were not a little painful 
 to narrate two instances of wanton seduction on his 
 part ; which, were there no other counts in the moral 
 indictment against him, would be sufficient to consign 
 him to eternal infamy. 
 
 Mr. Maclaine applied himself also to his old profes- 
 sion of fortune-hunting, and, in company with his old 
 and worthy coadjutor Plunket, made several attempts 
 to entrap heiresses, all of which proved abortive. While 
 he was intent upon these schemes, he had no opportu- 
 nity of making excursions on the road, and to defray 
 his expenses had borrowed from a citizen's wife, with 
 whom he had an intrigue, about twenty pounds, which 
 he promised faithfully to repay before her husband 
 should, return from the country. The time of the citi- 
 zen's arrival being at hand, the good wife became ex- 
 ceedingly curious about the coin ; and as a similar 
 favor might be wanted by him at a future time, Mr. 
 Maclaine made it a point of conscience to keep his 
 word with her, and appointed her to come to him at 
 his country lodgings at Chelsea, where he paid her the 
 money. He, however, took care that his friend Plun- 
 ket should ease her of the trouble of carrying it home, 
 by waylaying her in the Five-fields. 
 
 Soon after this, a supply of cash being wanted, Plun- 
 ket and he prepared for an expedition, and took the 
 road to Chester ; and in three days committed five rob- 
 beries between Stony Stratford and Whitechurch, one 
 of which was upon an intimate acquaintance, by whom 
 Maclaine had been handsomely entertained but two 
 days before. However, the booty in the whole five 
 robberies did not amount to thirty pounds in cash, but 
 they had watches, rings, &c. to a much greater amount. 
 On the very evening of their return to town, they ob- 
 tained information that an officer in the East India 
 company's service had received a large sum of money, 
 with which he was about to return to Greenwich. 
 They waylaid and robbed him of a very considerable 
 
JAMES MACLAINE. 241 
 
 sum, and it would seem that on this occasion they were 
 under some dread of a discovery ; for, in a few days 
 after the commission of it, Maclaine set out for the 
 Hague, and Plunket for Ireland. 
 
 On the arrival of the former at the Hague, he pre- 
 tended a friendly visit to his brother, who received him 
 with cordiality and affection, and as honesty is never 
 suspicious, he was easily induced to give credit to the 
 specious tale which his brother related to him. He 
 told him that he had got a considerable fortune with 
 his late wife, and that her father, who died some few 
 months before, had left him a valuable legacy, with 
 which he designed to purchase a company in the army. 
 Upon that, and the interest of his other funds, he said, 
 he hoped to live at ease for the remainder of his life. 
 His worthy brother, rejoicing in his prosperity, intro- 
 duced him to his acquaintance and friends, amongst 
 whom Mr. Maclaine behaved with great politeness, 
 giving balls and large parties ; to pay for which, it is 
 surmised, he had the art to extract the gold watches 
 and purses of his guests without suspicion. 
 
 However, upon his arrival in London, to which 
 place he had been induced to return by a letter from 
 Plunket, informing him of another rich matrimonial 
 prize, which was, as usual, beyond his reach or above 
 his ingenuity to ensnare ; — he again appears to have 
 taken up his old thoughts of preparing for Jamaica, as 
 a last resource. But these thoughts did not long pos- 
 sess him ; for though by the sale of his horses and fur- 
 niture he might have fitted himself for the West Indies 
 in a very genteel manner, and had still reputation 
 enough left to have procured sufficient recommenda- 
 tions from home ; yet he was prevailed upon to try his 
 fate on the road once more, and was but too successful, 
 making several rich prizes. Amongst the rest he and 
 Plunket robbed Horace Walpole,* and on a reward 
 
 * In the very amusing Letters of Horace Walpole to Sir Horace 
 Mann, recently published, we find the following spirited and lively 
 sketch of Maclaine. 
 
 u 
 
242 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 being advertised for the watch which they had taken 
 from him, Plunket had the impudence to go and receive 
 u himself, choosing to run the risk rather than trust a 
 third person with their hazardous secret. But all hu- 
 man prudence is in vain to stop the hand of justice, 
 when once the measure of our iniquity is full ; our 
 closest secrets take wind, we know not how ; and our 
 own folly acts the part of an informer to awaken 
 
 "I have been in town for a day or two, and heard no conversation 
 but about M'Laine, a fashionable highwayman, who is just taken, and 
 who robbed me among others ; as lord Eglinton, Sir Thomas Robin- 
 son of Vienna, Mrs. Talbot, See. He took an odd booty from the 
 Scotch earl, a blunderbuss, which lies very formidable upon the jus- 
 tice's table. He was taken by selling a laced waistcoat to a pawnbro- 
 ker, who happened to carry it to the very man who had just sold the 
 lace. His history is very particular, for he confesses every thing, and 
 is so little of a hero, that he cries and begs, and I believe, if lord 
 Eglinton had been in any luck, might have been robbed of his own 
 blunderbuss. His father was an Irish dean ; his brother is a Calvinist 
 minister in great esteem at the Hague. He himself was a grocer, but 
 losing a wife that he loved extremely about two years ago, and by 
 whom he has one little girl, he quitted his business with two hundred 
 pounds in his pocket, which he soon spent, and then took to the road 
 with only one companion, Plunket, a journeyman apothecary, my 
 other friend, whom he has impeached, but who is not taken. M'Laine 
 had a lodging in St. James' street over against White's, and another at 
 Chelsea ; Plunket one in Jermyn street ; and their faces are as known 
 about St. James' as any gentleman's who lives in that quarter, and 
 who perhaps goes upon the road too. M'Laine had a quarrel at Putney 
 bowling-green two months ago with an officer, whom he challenged for 
 disputing his crank; but the captain declined, till M'Laine should 
 produce a certificate of his nobility, which he has just received. If he 
 had escaped a month longer, he might have heard of Mr. Chute's 
 genealogical expeitness, and come hither to the College of Arms for a 
 certificate. There was a wardrobe of clothes, three and twenty purses, 
 and the celebrated blunderbuss, found at his lodgings, besides a famous 
 kept mistress. As I conclude he will suffer, and wish him no ill, I 
 do n't care to have his idea, and am almost single in not having been 
 to ;>ee him. Lord Mountford, at the head of half White's, went the 
 first day : his aunt was crying over him : as soon as they were with- 
 drawn, she said to him, knowing they were of White's, 'My dear, what 
 did the lords say to you? have you ever been concerned with any of 
 them?' Was it not admirable ? what a favorable idea people must 
 have of White's ! — and what if White's should not deserve a much 
 better ! But the chief personages who have been to comfort and weep 
 over this fallen hero are lady Caroline Petersham and Miss Ashe : I 
 call them Polly and Lucy, and asked them if he did not sing, ■ 'Jhus I 
 itand like the Turk with his doxies around.' " 
 
JAMES MACLAINE. 243 
 
 o'fended justice. The crisis of Maclaine's fate was at 
 hand. It was he who proposed his last excursion to 
 Plimket, who was ill at the time, and was very unwil- 
 ling to turn out ; but Maclaine, impelled by some un- 
 common impulse, urged him so earnestly, that he at 
 length complied. They came up. about two o'clock in 
 the morning, near Turnham Green, with the Salisbury 
 srage-coach, in which five men and a woman were 
 passengers. Though this was Maclaine's expedition, 
 yet Plunket was the acting man, and obliged all the 
 men to come out of the coach one by one, and rifled 
 them; and then, putting his pistol in his pocket, lest 
 he should frighten the icidy, without forcing her out of 
 the coach, he took what she offered without further 
 search. Plunket would now have gone off; but Mac- 
 laine, full of his fate, demanded the cloak-bags out of 
 the boot of the coach ; each of them took one before 
 him and rode off, bidding a polite adieu to the passen- 
 gers, and riding as deliberately as though they had 
 been performing some signal service. 
 
 On the same morning they met and robbed lord 
 Eglinton, who was the prize for whom they originally 
 went out. They effected this by a stratagem, as his 
 lordship was armed with a blunderbuss. One of them 
 screened himself behind the postboy, so that if his 
 lordship fired he must shoot his servant, while the 
 other with a pistol cocked demanded his money, and 
 ordered him to throw his blunderbuss on the ground. 
 But, it appears, the prize obtained at this hazard was 
 but seven guineas, with which, and the cloak-bags, 
 they returned to Maclaine's lodgings before the family 
 were up, and divided their spoil. 
 
 But though the clothes were described in the public 
 papers, yet so infatuated was Maclaine, that he sold 
 his share of the booty to a salesman, who instantly 
 recognised them as belonging to a Mr. Higden, and the 
 latter immediately had Maclaine taken into custody. 
 
 On his first examination he denied the fact, but 
 afterwards, that he might leave himself.no room to 
 escape, he formed a design of saving his life by im- 
 
244 LIVES OV HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 peaching his accomplice Plunket, foolishly imagining 
 that justice would promise life to a villain she had in 
 custody, for impeaching another that was out of her 
 reach. But "Quern Deus vult perdere prius demen- 
 tat," or, to express a similar sentiment in the words of 
 Massinger, — 
 
 " Here is a precedent to teach wicked men, 
 That when they leave religion and turn atheists 
 Their own abilities leave 'em." 
 
 For though he was forewarned that a confession, with- 
 out impeaching a number of accomplices, would not 
 avail him, he still insisted upon taking that step, not 
 from compunction or remorse, but with the base design 
 of saving his own life at the expense of that of his 
 quondam friend. 
 
 On his second examination he delivered his confes- 
 sion in writing, and behaved in a most dastardly man- 
 ner, whimpering and crying like a whipped school-boy 
 This conduct, degrading as it was, drew sympathetic 
 tears from, and opened the purses of his fair audience, 
 whose bounty supported him in great affluence while 
 he remained in the Gatehouse, and whose kind offers 
 of intercession gave him hopes of a free pardon. 
 
 On his trial, he thought fit to retract his confession, 
 pretending that he was flurried, and in some measure 
 delirious, when he made it, and that he had received 
 the clothes from Plunket in payment of a debt. But 
 this evasion had no weight with the jury, who brought 
 him in guilty without going out of court. 
 
 On receiving sentence, guilt, shame and dread de- 
 prived him of the power of speech, and disabled him 
 from reading a paper, pathetically enough composed, 
 in which he prayed for mercy. 
 
 In Newgate, ample time was permitted him to make 
 his peace with his offended Maker, and there is every 
 evidence to believe, from the testimony of the Rev. Dr. 
 Alien, who attended him constantly to the last moment 
 of his life, that his remorse and contrition were unaf- 
 fected, sincere and strong. 
 
 He was carried to Tyburn in a cart, like the rest ol 
 
EUGENE ARAM. 245 
 
 the criminals, and not, as was expected, in a coach ; 
 he stood the gaze of the multitude (which was on this 
 occasion almost infinite) without the least concern; 
 his thoughts were steadfast in his devotion, and when 
 he was about to be turned off he said, " O God, forgive 
 my enemies, bless my friends, and receive my soul !" 
 His execution took place on Wednesday, October 3, 
 1750. 
 
 EUGENE ARAM. 
 
 The accounts of the life of this man have become of 
 late so widely circulated, and the particulars respecting 
 the murder of which he was the perpetrator so gene- 
 rally known, that any notice of him in this work 
 would appear almost supererogatory, were it not that 
 a charge of oversight and omission could, without in- 
 justice, be reasonably advanced against it, were we to 
 slight over or leave unmentioned a name so notorious. 
 We shall, therefore, give a summary of his history, 
 commencing with an account of his family and early 
 life, furnished by himself at the request of the two gen- 
 tlemen who, at his own particular desire, attended him 
 at his condemnation. 
 
 "1 was born at Ramsgill, a little village in Nether- 
 dale, in 1704. My maternal relations had been sub- 
 stantial and reputable in that dale, for a great many 
 generations : my father was of Nottinghamshire, a 
 gardener, of great abilities in botany, and an excellent 
 draughtsman. He served the right reverend bishop of 
 London, Dr. Compton, with great approbation; which 
 occasioned his being recommended to Newby, in this 
 county, to Sir Edward Blackett, whom he served in 
 the capacity of gardener, with much credit to himself, 
 and satisfaction to that family, for above thirty years. 
 Upon the decease of that baronet, he went, and was 
 
246 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 retained in the service of Sir John Tngilby, of Ripley, 
 Bart., where he died; respected when living, and la- 
 mented when dead. My father's ancestors were of 
 great antiquity and consideration in the county, and 
 originally British. Their surname is local, for they 
 were formerly lords of the town of Haram, or Aram, 
 on the southern banks of the Tees, and opposite to 
 Sockburn, in Bishopric ; and appear in the records of 
 St. Mary's, at York, among many charitable names, 
 early and considerable benefactors to that abbey. 
 They, many centuries ago, removed from these parts, 
 and were settled under the fee of the lords Mowbray, 
 in Nottinghamshire, at Haram or Aram Park, in the 
 neighborhood of Newark upon Trent ; where they 
 were possessed of no less than three knights' fees in 
 the reign of Edward the Third. Their lands, I find 
 not whether by purchase or marriage, came into the 
 hands of the present lord Lexington. While the name 
 existed in the county, some of them were several times 
 high sheriffs for the county ; and one was professor of 
 divinity, if I remember right, at Oxford, and died at 
 York. The last of the chief of this family was Thomas 
 Aram, Esq. of Gray's inn, and one of the commission- 
 ers of the salt office, under queen Anne. He married 
 one of the co-heiresses of Sir John Coningsby, of North 
 Mimms, in Hertfordshire. His seat, which was his 
 own estate, was at the Wild, near Shenley, in Hert- 
 fordshire, where I saw him, and where he died without 
 issue. 
 
 " I was removed very young, along with my mother, 
 to Skelton, near Newby ; and thence, at five or six 
 years old, my father making a little purchase at Bond- 
 gate, near Ripon, his family went thither. There J 
 went to school; where I was made capable of reading 
 the Testament, which was ,#11 I was ever taught, ex- 
 cept, a long time after, for about a month, in a very 
 advanced age for that, with the reverend Mr. Alcock, 
 of Burnsal. 
 
 "After this, about thirteen or fourteen years of age, 
 I went to mv father at Newby, and attended him in 
 
EUGENE ARAM. 247 
 
 the family there, till the death of Sir Edward Blackett. 
 It was here my propensity to literature first appeared, 
 for being always of a solitary disposition, and uncom- 
 monly fond of retirement and books, I enjoyed here all 
 the repose and opportunity I could wish. My study at 
 that time was engaged in the mathematics: I know 
 not wYiat my acquisitions were, but I am certain my 
 application was intense and unwearied. I found in 
 my father's library there, which contained a very great 
 number of hooks in most branches, Kersey's Algebra, 
 Leybourn's Cursus Mathematicus, Ward's Young Ma- 
 thematician's Guide, Harris' Algebra, &c. and a great 
 many more; but these being the books in which I was 
 ever most conversant, I remember them the better. I 
 was even then equal to the management of quadratic 
 equations, and their geometrical constructions. After 
 we left Newby, I repeated the same studies in Bond- 
 gate, and went over all parts I had studied before, I 
 believe not altogether unsuccessfully. 
 
 " Being about the age of sixteen, I was sent for to 
 London, being thought, upon examination by Mr. 
 Christopher Blackett, qualified to serve him as book- 
 keeper in his counting-house. Here, after a year or 
 two, I took the small-pox and suffered most severely 
 under that distemper. I returned home again, and 
 there with leisure on my hands, and a new addition of 
 authors to those brought me from Newby, I renewed 
 not only my mathematical studies, but began and pro- 
 secuted others, of a different turn, with much avidity 
 and diligence. These were poetry, history, and anti- 
 quities; the charms of which quite destroyed all the 
 heavier beauties of numbers in lines, whose applica- 
 tions and properties I now pursued no longer, except 
 occasionally in teaching. 
 
 "I was, after some time employed in this manner, 
 invited into Netherdale, my native air, where I first 
 engaged in a school, and where, unfortunately enough 
 for me, I married. The misconduct of the wife which 
 that place afforded me, has procured me this prosecu- 
 tion, this prison, this infamy, and this sentence. 
 
248 MVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 " During my marriage here, perceiving the deficien- 
 cies in my education, and sensible of my want of the 
 learned languages, and prompted by an irresistible 
 covetousness of knowledge, I commenced a series of 
 studies in that way, and undertook the tediousness of 
 the intricacies and the labor of grammar; I selected 
 Lilly from the rest, all of which I got and repeated by 
 heart. The task of repeating it all every day was im- 
 possible while I attended the school ; so I divided it 
 into portions; by which method it was pronounced 
 thrice every week, and this I performed for years. 
 
 "I next became acquainted with Camden's Greek 
 Grammar, which I also repeated in the same manner, 
 memoriter. Thus instructed, I entered upon the Latin 
 classics, whose allurements repaid my assiduities and 
 my labors. I remember to have, at first, overhung five 
 lines for a whole day ; and never, in all the painful 
 course of my reading, left any one passage till I did, or 
 thought I did, perfectly comprehend it. 
 
 " After I had accurately perused every one of the 
 Latin classics, historians and poets, I went through the 
 Greek Testament, first parsing every word as I pro- 
 ceeded ; next I ventured upon Hesiod, Homer, Theo- 
 critus, Herodotus, Thucydides, and all the Greek tra- 
 gedians : a tedious labor was this ; but my former 
 acquaintance with history lessened it extremely, be- 
 cause it threw light upon many passages, which with- 
 out that assistance must have appeared obscure. 
 
 " In the midst of these literary pursuits a man and 
 horse from my good friend William Norton, Esq., came 
 for me from Knaresborough. bearing that gentleman's 
 letter inviting me thither; and accordingly I repaired 
 there in some part of the year 1734, and was, I believe, 
 well accepted and esteemed there. Here, not satisfied 
 with my former acquisitions, I prosecuted the attain- 
 ment of Hebrew, and with indefatigable diligence. I 
 had BuxtorfT's grammar, but that being perplexed, or 
 not explicit enough, at least in my opinion at that time, 
 I collected no less than eight or ten different grammars • 
 and thus one very often supplied the omissions of the 
 
EUGENE ARAM. 249 
 
 others, and was, I found, of extraordinary advantage. 
 Then I purchased the Bible in the original and read 
 the whole Pentateuch, with an intention to go through 
 the whole of it, which I attempted, but wanted time. 
 
 " In April, I think the 18th, 1744, I went again to 
 London, and agreed to teach the Latin and writing, for 
 the Rev. Mr. Painblanc, in Piccadilly, which he, along 
 with a salary, returned, by teaching me French ; 
 wherein I observed the pronunciation the most formi- 
 dable part, at least to me, who had never before known 
 a word of it. By continued application every night 
 and every opportunity, I overcame this, and soon be- 
 came a tolerable master of French. I remained in this 
 situation two years and above. 
 
 " Some time after this I went to Hays, in the capaci- 
 ty of writing-master, and served a gentlewoman there, 
 since dead; and stayed, after that, with a worthy and 
 reverend gentleman. I continued here between three 
 and four years. To several other places I then suc- 
 ceeded, and all that while used every occasion for im- 
 provement. I then transcribed acts of parliament to be 
 registered in chancery; and after went down to the 
 free-school at Lynn. 
 
 " From my leaving Knaresborough to this time is a 
 long interval, which I had filled up with the farther 
 study of history and antiquities, heraldry and botany; 
 in the last of which I was very agreeably entertained, 
 there being in that study so extensive a display of na- 
 ture. I well knew Toi.mefort, Ray, Miller, Linnaeus, 
 &-C. I made frequent visits to the botanic garden at 
 Chelsea ; and traced pleasure through a thousand fields : 
 at last, few plants, domestic or exotic, were unknown 
 to me. Amidst all this I ventured upon the Chaldeo 
 and Arabic ; and, with a design to understand them, 
 supplied myself with Erpenius, Chappelow, and others : 
 but I had not time to obtain any great knowledge of 
 the Arabic ; the Chaldee I found easy enough, because 
 of its connection with the Hebrew. 
 
 u I then investigated the Celtic, as far as possible, in 
 all its dialects ; began collections, and made compari- 
 
250 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND UOBBERS. 
 
 sons between that, the English, the Latin, the Greek, 
 and even the Hebrew. I had made notes, and com- 
 pared above three thousand of these together, and 
 found such a surprising affinity, even beyond any ex- 
 pectation or conception, that I was determined to pro- 
 ceed through the whole of these languages, and form a 
 comparative lexicon, which I hoped would account for 
 numberless vocables in use with us, the Latins, and 
 Greeks, before concealed and unobserved : this, or 
 something like it, was the design of a clergyman of 
 great erudition in Scotland ; but it must prove abortive, 
 for he died before he executed it, and most of my books 
 and papers are now scattered and lost." 
 
 Such is the account Eugene Aram has given of him- 
 self, until the commission of the fatal act that brought 
 down upon him the execration of the world and the 
 last vengeance of the law. Of all the crimes man is 
 capable of committing, there is none so offensive to 
 Omnipotence as murder ; and the Almighty, therefore, 
 seems to be more intent to expose that heinous and ac- 
 cursed offence to mankind ; to warn and admonish 
 them, to show them that rocks cannot hide, nor dis- 
 tance secure them from the inevitable consequences of 
 the violation of that law which nature dictates and 
 man confirms. The extraordinary means by which 
 this murder was brought to light, is one of the many 
 instances of this divine interposition. 
 
 Daniel Clark was born at Knaresborough, of reputa- 
 ble parents, where he lived and followed the business 
 of a shoemaker. About the month of January, 1744 or 
 5, he married, and became possessed of property to the 
 amount of two or three hundred pounds. He was at 
 that time in very good credit at Knaresborough, and it 
 is supposed a scheme was then laid by Eugene Aram, 
 at that tim3 a schoolmaster in the town, and one 
 Houseman, a flax-dresser, to defraud several trades- 
 men of great quantities of goods and plate, Clark hav- 
 ing been chosen as the fittest person to carry their plan 
 into execution ; for, as he then lived in very good repu- 
 tation, and, moreover, was lately married, he was the 
 
EUGENE ARAM. 251 
 
 person of all others best calculated to effect the intend- 
 ed purpose. Accordingly, Clark for some days went 
 about to various tradesmen in the town, and under the 
 pretext that, as he wavS just married, it was not altoge- 
 ther irrational to suppose that cloth, and table and bed- 
 linen, would considerably contribute to his matrimonial 
 comfort, he took up great quantities of linen and wool- 
 len-drapery goods; the worthy dealers of Knaresbo- 
 rough rendering up their commodities with the greatest 
 zeal and expedition on so interesting an occasion. Af- 
 ter this, he went to several innkeepers and others, 
 desiring to borrow a silver tankard of one, a nicely- 
 worked silver pint of another, and the like, alleging 
 that he was to have company that night, and should 
 be glad of the use of them at supper* and in order to 
 give a color to his story, he procured of the innkeepers 
 (of whom he had borrowed the plate) ale and other 
 liquors to regale his visitors. 
 
 Some suspicious circumstances, however, appearing 
 that night and the following morning, a rumor got 
 wind that Clark had absconded; and upon inquiry, 
 most certainly, he was not to be found. An active 
 search was immediately made for the goods and plate 
 with which he had provided himself, when some part 
 of the goods was found at Houseman's house, and an- 
 other part dug up in Aram's garden ; but as no plate 
 could be found it was concluded, somewhat naturally, 
 that with them Clark had decamped. The strictest 
 inquiry was instantly set on foot to discover his retreat; 
 persons were despatched to all parts : advertisements 
 describing his person inserted in all the papers ; but to 
 no purpose. 
 
 Eugene Aram being suspected to be an accomplice, 
 a process was granted against him by the steward of 
 the honor of Knaresborough tc arrest him for a debt 
 due to a Mr. Norton, with a view to detain him till 
 such time as a warrant could be obtained from the jus- 
 tice of the peace to apprehend him upon that charge. 
 To the surprise of all, however, the money was in- 
 stantly paid, and moreover, at the same time, a consi- 
 
252 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 derable mortgage upon his house at Bondgate was 
 also discharged. Soon afterwards, Aram left the town, 
 and was not heard of until the month of June, 1758, 
 when the murder of Clark being traced to him, he was 
 found residing at Lynn. 
 
 Upwards of thirteen years after Clark's disappear- 
 ance, it happened that a laborer employed in digging 
 for stone to supply a lime-kiln, at a place called This- 
 tle hill, near Knaresborough, striking about half a yard 
 and half a quarter deep, turned up an arm bone and 
 the small bone of the leg of a human skeleton. His 
 curiosity being excited, he carefully removed the earth 
 round about the place, and discovered all the bones 
 belonging to a body, presenting an appearance, from 
 their position, as though the body had been doubled at 
 the hips, though the bones were all perfect. This re- 
 markable accident being rumored in the town, gave 
 rise to a suspicion that Daniel Clark had been murder- 
 ed and buried there; for no other person had been 
 missing thereabouts for sixty years and upwards. 
 The coroner was instantly informed, and an inquest 
 summoned. 
 
 The wife of Eugene Aram, who had frequently be- 
 fore given hints of her suspicions, was now examined. 
 From her evidence, it appeared that Clark was an inti- 
 mate acquaintance of Aram's before the 8th of Febru- 
 ary, 1744-5, and they had had frequent transactions 
 together, and with Houseman also. About two o'clock 
 in the morning of the 8th of February, 1744-5, Aram, 
 Clark, and Houseman came to Aram's house and went 
 up stairs, where they remained about an hour. They 
 then went out together, and Clark being the last, she 
 observed that he had a sack or wallet on his back. 
 About four,*Aram and Houseman returned, but with- 
 out their companion. " Where is Clark ?" she inquir- 
 ed ; but her husband only returned an angry look in 
 reply, and desired her to go to bed, which she refused, 
 and told him, " she feared he had been doing something 
 wrong." Aram then went down stairs with the candle, 
 mid she being desirous to know what thev were doing, 
 
EUGENE ARAM. 253 
 
 followed them, and from the top of the stairs heard 
 Houseman say, "She's coming; if she does, she'll 
 tell." " What can she tell, poor simple thing?" replied 
 Aram ; " she knows nothing. I '11 hold the door to pre- 
 vent her coming." " It 's of no use, something must 
 be done," returned Houseman; "if she don't split' 
 now, she will some other time." " No, no, foolish,"* 
 her husband said; "we'll coax her a little till her 
 passion is off, and then" — "What!" said Houseman 
 sullenly. — " Shoot her," whispered Aram, " shoot her !" 
 Mrs. Aram, hearing this discourse, became very much 
 alarmed, but remained quiet. At seven o'clock the 
 same morning they both left the house, and she, imme- 
 diately their backs were turned, went down stairs, and 
 observed that there had been a fire below, and all the 
 ashes taken out of the grate. She then examined the 
 dunghill, and perceived ashes of a different kind lying 
 upon it, and searching amongst them, found several 
 pieces of linen and woollen cloth very nearly burnt, 
 which had the appearance of wearing apparel. When 
 she returned into the house, she found a handkerchief 
 that she had lent to Houseman the night before, and a 
 round spot of blood upon it about the size of a shilling. 
 Houseman came back soon afterwards, and she charged 
 him with having done some dreadful thing to Clark ; 
 but he pretended total ignorance, and added, " she was 
 a fool, and knew not what she said." From these cir- 
 cumstances, she fully and conscientiously believed that 
 Daniel Clark was murdered by Houseman and Eugene 
 Aram, on the 8th of February, 1744-5. - 
 
 Several other witnesses were examined, all affirming 
 that Houseman and Eugene Aram were the last per- 
 sons seen with Clark, especially on the night of the ?<h 
 of February, being that after which he was missing. 
 Upon hearing these testimonies, Houseman, who was 
 present, was observed to become very restless, discover- 
 ing all the signs of guilt, such as trembling, turning 
 pale, and faltering in his speech. Few men guilty of 
 the crime of murder have the strength of heart and 
 self-command to conceal it : by some circumstance or 
 V 
 
254 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 other, the truth will out ; a look, a dream, and not un- 
 frequently, as in this case, their own unfaithful tongue, 
 is the involuntary agent that brings at last the black- 
 ened culprit to that punishment which unerringly 
 awaits the man that sheds his brother's blood. Ac- 
 cordingly, upon the skeleton being produced, House- 
 man, taking up one of the bones, dropped this most 
 unguarded expression : " This is no more Daniel 
 Clark's bone than it is mine." "What?" remarked 
 the coroner instantlv — "what? — how is this? How 
 can you be so sure that that is not Daniel Clark's 
 bone?" "Because I can pi oduce a witness," replied 
 Houseman, in evident confusion — " because I can pro- 
 duce a witness, who saw Daniel Clark upon the road 
 two days after he was missing at Knaresborough." 
 This witness was instantly summoned, and stated that 
 he had never seen Clark after the 8th of February; a 
 friend, however, had told him (and this only had he 
 mentioned at first) that he met some one very like 
 Clark; but, it being a snowy day, and the person hav- 
 ing the cape of his great coat up, he could not say with 
 the least degree of certainty who he was. This expla- 
 nation, so far from proving satisfactory, increased the 
 suspicion against Houseman ; and accordingly a war- 
 rant was issued against him, and he was apprehended 
 and brought before William Thornton, Esq., who, exa- 
 mining him, elicited a full acknowledgment of the fact 
 of his having been with Clark on the night in question, 
 on account of some money (twenty pounds) that he 
 had lent him, and which he wanted at the time very 
 pressingly. He further stated, that Clark begged him 
 to accept the value in goods, to which proposition he 
 assented, and was necessarily, therefore, several times 
 to and fro between Clark's house and his own, in order 
 to remove the goods from one to the other. When he 
 had finished, he left Clark at Aram's house, with an- 
 other man, whom he had never seen before. Aram 
 and Clark, immediately afterwards, followed him out 
 of the house of the former, and the stranger was with 
 ihem. They then went in the direction of the market- 
 
EUGENE ARAM. 255 
 
 place, which the light of the moon enabled him to see, 
 and he lost sight of them. He disavowed most solemn- 
 ly that he came back to Aram's house that morning 
 with Aram and Clark, as was asserted by Mrs. Aram ; 
 nor was he with Aram, but with Clark, at the house of 
 the former on that night, whither he only went to see 
 Clark in order to obtain from him the note. 
 
 Being then asked if he would sign this examination, 
 he said he would rather waive it for the present, for he 
 might have something to add, and therefore desired to 
 have time to consider of it. The magistrate then com- 
 mitted him to York castle, when, expressing a wish to 
 explain more fully, he was again brought before Mr. 
 Thornton, and in his presence made the following con- 
 fession : — That Daniel Clark was murdered by Eugene 
 Aram, late of Knaresborough, a schoolmaster, and, as 
 he believed, on Friday the 8th of February, 1744-5 ; 
 for that Eugene Aram and Daniel Clark were together 
 at Aram's house early that morning, and that he 
 (Houseman) left the house and went up the street a 
 little before, and they called to him, desiring he would 
 go a short way with them; and he accordingly went 
 with them to a place called St. Robert's cave, near 
 Grimble bridge, where the two former stopped, and 
 there he saw Aram strike Clark several times over the 
 breast and head, and saw him fall as if he were dead ; 
 upon which he came away and left them; but whether 
 Aram used any weapon or not to kill Clark, he could 
 not tell, nor did he know what he did with the body 
 afterwards, but believed that Aram left it at the mouth 
 of the cave ; for that, seeing Aram do this, lest he 
 might share the same fate, he made the best of his way 
 to the bridge-end, where, looking back, he saw Aram 
 coming from the cave-side, (which is in a private rock 
 adjoining the river,) and could discern a bundle in his 
 hand, but did not know what it was : upon this he 
 hastened away to the town, without either joining Aram 
 or seeing him again till the next day, and from that 
 time he had never had discourse with him. He stated, 
 however, afterwards, that Clark's body was buried in 
 
256 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 St. Robert's cave, and that he was sure it was there, 
 but desired it might remain till such time as Aram was 
 taken. He added further, that Clark's head lay to the 
 right, in the turn at the entrance of the cave. 
 
 Proper persons were instantly appointed to examine 
 St. Robert's cave, when, agreeably to Houseman's 
 confession, the skeleton of a human body (the head 
 lying as he had described) was found. A warrant was 
 instantly issued to apprehend Eugene Aram, who was 
 discovered to be living at Lynn in the capacity of usher 
 at a school. He confessed before the magistrate that 
 he was well acquainted with Clark, and, to the best of 
 his remembrance, about or before the 8th of February, 
 1744-5, but utterly denied any participation in the 
 frauds which Clark stood charged with at the time of 
 his disappearance. He also declared that he knew no- 
 thing of the murder, and that the statements made by 
 his wife were without exception false : he, however, 
 declined to sign his examination, on the same plea pre- 
 ferred by Houseman, that he might recollect himself 
 better, and lest any thing should be omitted which 
 might afterwards occur to him. On being conducted 
 to the castle, he desired to return, and acknowledged 
 that he was at his own house when Houseman and 
 Clark came to him with some plate, of which Clark 
 had defrauded his neighbors. He could not but ob- 
 serve that the former was very diligent in assisting; in 
 fact, it was altogether Houseman's business ; and there 
 was no truth whatever in the statement that he came 
 there to sign a note or instrument. All the leather 
 which Clark had possessed himself of, amounting to a 
 considerable value, was concealed under flax at House- 
 man's house, with the intention of disposing of it little 
 by little, to prevent any suspicion of his being concern- 
 ed in the robbery. The plate was beaten flat in St. 
 Robert's cave. At four o'clock in the morning, they, 
 thinking that it was too late to enable Clark to leave 
 with safety, agreed that he should stay there till the 
 next night, and he accordingly remained there all the 
 following day. In order, then, the better to effect his 
 
EUGENE AKAM. 257 
 
 escape, they both went down to the cave, Houseman 
 only entering, while he watched without, lest any per- 
 son should surprise them. On a sudden he heard a 
 noise, and Houseman appeared at the mouth of the 
 cave, and told him that Clark was gone. He had a 
 bag with him, containing plate, which he said he lAid 
 purchased of Clark, money being much more portable 
 than such cumbersome articles. They then went to 
 Houseman's house, and concealed the property there, 
 he fully believing that Clark had escaped. He never 
 heard any thing of Clark subsequently, and was as 
 much surprised to hear there was a suspicion of his 
 being murdered, as that he (Eugene Aram) should be 
 considered to be the murderer. Notwithstanding this 
 surprise, however, his examination having been signed, 
 he was committed with his companion to York castle, 
 there to await the assizes. 
 
 On the third of August. 1759, they were both brought 
 to the bar. Houseman was arraigned on the former 
 indictment, acquitted, and admitted evidence against 
 Aram, who was thereupon -arraigned. Houseman was 
 then called, and deposed to the same effect as that 
 which has already appeared in his own confession. 
 Several witnesses were called, who gave evidence as 
 to finding several kinds of goods buried in Aram's gar- 
 den, Aram's knowledge of the fact of Clark's possessing 
 two hundred pounds, and to show that they both had 
 been seen together on the evening of the 7th of Febru- 
 ary. After which the skull was produced in court ; on 
 the left side there was a fracture, from the nature of 
 which it was impossible to have been done but by the 
 stroke of some blunt instrument. The skull was beaten 
 inwards, and could not be replaced but from within. 
 The surgeon gave it as his opinion, that no such breach 
 could proceed from natural decay; that it was not a 
 recent fracture made by the spade or axe by which it 
 might have been dug up; but seemed to be of some 
 years' standing. 
 
 Eugene Aram's defence, which he read, was marked 
 with an undoubted manifestation of very considerable 
 
258 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 powers. It was learned and argumentative; and in 
 some passages, glowing and eloquent. He attempted 
 to si iow, that no rational inference can be drawn that 
 a person is dead who suddenly disappears; — that her- 
 mitages such as St. Robert's cave were the constant 
 repositories of the bones of the recluse; that the proofs 
 of this were well authenticated; and, that therefore the 
 conclusion that the bones found were those of some 
 one killed in battle, or of some ascetic, remained no 
 less reasonably than impatiently expected by him. A 
 verdict of guilty was however returned, and he was 
 condemned to be hanged accordingly. 
 
 On the morning after his condemnation, he confessed 
 the justice of his sentence to the two gentlemen who 
 attended him. and acknowledged that he had murdered 
 Clark. He told them, also, that he suspected Clark of 
 having an unlawful commerce with his wife; and that 
 at the time of the murder he felt persuaded he was act- 
 ing right, but since, he had thought otherwise.^ 
 
 It was generally believed, as he promised to make a 
 more ample confession on the day he was executed of 
 every thing prior to the murder, that the whole would 
 have been disclosed; but he put an end to any farther 
 discovery, by an attempt upon his own life. When he 
 was called from his bed to have his chains taken off, 
 he refused, alleging that he was very weak. On mov- 
 ing him. it was found that he had inflicted a severe 
 wound upon his arm, from which the blood was flow- 
 ing copiously. He had concealed a razor in the con- 
 demned hold some time before. By proper and prompt 
 applications he was brought to himself, and though 
 weak from loss of blood, conducted to Tyburn in York, 
 where, being asked if he had any thing to say, he an- 
 swered, " No." He was then executed, and his body 
 conveyed to Knaresborough Forest, and hung in chains, 
 pursuant to his sentence. 
 
 * It is generally believed, and upon good grounds, we imagine, that 
 Aram possessed himself of all the money Clark had received for his 
 wife's dower, (about one hundred and sixty pounds,) and there were 
 strong circumstances to substantiate it ; but it was thought unnecessa- 
 ry, sufficient pro»f having been adduced without it. 
 
EUGENE ARAM. 259 
 
 That Eugene Aram murdered Clark is beyond all 
 question, since we have his confession; t.'iat he com- 
 mitted the murder actuated by the cause he alleges, is 
 open to great suspicion. The strange solicitude which 
 all men, even the most vicious, manifest to leave behind 
 a memory mingled with some little good, prompted him, 
 doubtless, tc give his crime the ennobling, or, at least, 
 mitigatory motive to which he attributes it. Whether 
 the perpetration of a murder can be justified, even 
 urged by the wrong Aram states himself to have sus- 
 pected, may be left to the consideration of the casuist ; 
 but whether the dreadful act can be extenuated by as 
 deliberate and foul attack on the virtue and character 
 of an innocent and industrious woman, whom he upon 
 all occasions treated with infamous barbarity, is a 
 question we can confidently leave to the judgment and 
 moral sense of every man. That Eugene Aram was 
 leagued with Clark and Houseman in their fraud at 
 Knaresborough, there can be little doubt ; that he plun- 
 dered his unhappy victim after he had murdered him, 
 there can be less ; that no sense of domestic injury 
 would urge a man to rob another who had wronged 
 him after he had slain him, needs only to be mentioned 
 to be admitted ; and therefore, believing conscientiously 
 from these facts that the charge against his wife was 
 not maintainable, a double indignation is entailed upon 
 the wretch who could add to the measure of his crime 
 this gratuitous calumny. 
 
 Notwithstanding these facts and the inferences that 
 every attentive reader must inevitably draw from 
 them, Eugene Aram has been deemed a fit hero for a 
 popular novel ; and the execration with whi ;h he 
 should have been consigned to posterity has been at- 
 tempted to be converted into a sentimental commisera- 
 tion for a gentle student who beats out his friend's 
 brains on philosophical principles, and converts his 
 property to his own use purely with a view to the 
 interests of science and the intellectual progression of 
 the world at large. 
 
 11 
 
260 
 
 GEORGE BARRINGTON. 
 
 George Barrington, whose crimes have justly asto- 
 nished his contemporaries, was originally a native and 
 inhabitant of Ireland ; and, as it will appear in the se- 
 quel that the name of Barrington was assumed, let it 
 suffice to remark that his father's name was Henry 
 Waldron, and that he was a working silversmith ; 
 while his mother, whose maiden name was Naish, was 
 a mantuamaker, and occasionally a midwife. 
 
 Our adventurer was born about the year 1755, at the 
 village of Maynooth, in the county of Kildare. His 
 parents, who bore a good character for their industry, 
 integrity, and general good behavior, were, however, 
 never able to rise to a state of independence, or security 
 from indigence, owing to their engagement in a law- 
 suit with a more powerful and opulent relative, in 
 order to the recovery of a legacy, to which they con- 
 ceived they had a legal right. To the narrowness of 
 their circumstances the neglect of their son's education 
 is imputed ; and, therefore, they were incapable of 
 improving, or of giving a proper bias to those early 
 indications of natural abilities, and a superiority of ta- 
 lents, which must inevitably have unfolded themselves 
 even in the dawn of young Barrington's existence. 
 He was, notwithstanding these obstacles, instructed in 
 reading and writing at an early age. dt their expense; 
 and afterwards, through the bounty of a medical gen- 
 tleman in the neighborhood / he was initiated in the 
 principles of common ari tlimetic, the elements of geo- 
 graphy, and the outlines of English grammar. 
 
 This ill-fated youth, however, enjoyed but for a short 
 time the benefits he derived from the kindness' of his 
 first patron, a dignitary of the church in Ireland ; for 
 
GEORGE BARRINGTON. 261 
 
 the violence of his passions, which equalled at least the 
 extent of his talents, precipitated him into an action by 
 which he lost his favor forover, and which, in its 
 consequences, finally proved his ruin. When he had 
 been about half a year at the grammar-school in Dub- 
 lin, to which he had been sent by his patron, he un- 
 luckily got into a dispute with a lad, much older, 
 larger, and stronger than himself; the dispute degene- 
 rated into a quarrel, and some blows ensued, in which 
 young Waldron suffered considerably ; but in order to 
 be revenged, he stabbed his antagonist with a penknife; 
 and had he not been seasonably prevented* would have 
 in all probability murdered him. The wounds which 
 he gave did not prove so dangerous as to render the 
 several circumstances of the quarrel which occasioned 
 them a subject of legal investigation. The discipline 
 of the house, (flogging.) however, wr.s inflicted with 
 proper severity on the perpetrator of so atrocious an 
 offence, which irritated the unrelenting and vindictive 
 temper of the young man to such a degree that he de- 
 termined at once to run away from school, from his 
 family, and from his friends ; thus abandoning the fair 
 prospects that he had before him, and blasting all the 
 hopes that had been fondly, though vainly, formed of 
 the great things that might be effected by his genius 
 when matured by time and improved by study. 
 
 His plan of escape was no sooner formed than it was 
 carried into execution; but previously to his departure 
 he found means to steal ten or twelve guineas from the 
 master of the school, and a gold repeating watch from 
 Mrs. Goldsborough, the master's sister. With this 
 booty, a few shirts, and two or three pair of stockings, 
 he silently but safely effected his retreat from the 
 school-house, in the middle of a still night in the month 
 of May, 1771 ; and pursuing the gre^t northern road 
 all that night, and all the next day, he late in the 
 evening arrived at the town of Drogheda, without in- 
 terruption, without accident, and in a great measure 
 without halting, without rest, and without food. 
 
 The first place of safety at which young Waldron 
 
262 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 thought proper to halt, was at an obscure inn in Drog- 
 heda, where a company of strolling players happening 
 to be at the time, it was the occasion of a new series 
 of acquaintance, which, though formed on precipitation 
 and on the spur of the occasion, was retained from 
 choice and affection for a number of years. 
 
 One John Price, the manager of the strolling compa- 
 ny, became quickly the confidant, and from the confi- 
 dant the sole counsellor of the young fugitive Waldron, 
 who, influenced by the ardor, the natural and unguard- 
 ed ingenuousness of a youthful mind, communicated to 
 this new friend, without reserve, all the circumstances 
 of his life and story. By his advice this unhappy 
 youth renounced his paternal name, assumed that of 
 Barrington, entered into the company, and in the 
 course of four days became so absolutely and formally 
 a strolling son of Thespis, that he performed the part 
 of Jaffier in "Venice Preserved," with some applause, 
 to a crowded audience, in a barn in the suburbs of 
 Drogheda ; and this without the assistance of a 
 prompter. 
 
 Though the reception he met with on his debut was 
 very flattering to a mind like his, Price, as well as 
 himself, thought it would not be proper for him to ap- 
 pear in public so near the scene of his late depredations 
 in the capital. It was, therefore, resolved on by them 
 that the whole company should without delay move to 
 the northward, and, if possible, get to the distance of 
 sixty or eighty miles from Dublin before they halted 
 for any length of time. In order to enable so numerous 
 a body to move with all their baggage, it was necessary 
 to raise money; and in doing this, Barrington's assist- 
 ance being the first thing that offered, was indispensa- 
 bly necessary. He was accordingly applied to, and 
 acquiesced with a good grace, giving Price Mrs. Golds- 
 borough's gold repeater, which was disposed of for the 
 general benefit of the strollers. 
 
 As soon as the necessary funds were procured, all 
 these children of Thespis set out for Londonderry, 
 which was the place at which they first designed to 
 
GEORGE BARRINGTON. 263 
 
 play. Travelling but slowly, they were a considerable 
 time on their journey ; and during the course oi' it, the 
 penetrating eyes.of the experienced actresses discovered 
 that Barrington had made a tender impression on the 
 heart of Miss Egerton, the young lady who played the 
 part of Belvidera when he acted that of Jaffier at 
 Drogheda. This poor girl was the daughter of an 
 opulent tradesman at Coventry. She was young and 
 beautiful, sweet-tempered and accomplished, but now 
 friendless ; and though, like the rest, inured to misfor- 
 tune, she was destitute of the experience which is 
 generally acquired during a series of sinister and unto- 
 ward events. At the age of sixteen she was seduced 
 by a lieutenant of marines, with whom she fled from 
 her father's house to Dublin, where in less than three 
 months he abandoned her, leaving her a prey to pover- 
 ty, infamy, and desperation. 
 
 Having been thus deceived in the simplicity of inno- 
 cence by the cunning and falsehood of one of the vilest 
 and most profligate of human beings, she had no other 
 resource from the most extreme want than r losing with 
 Price, who proposed to her to join his company ; which, 
 situated as she was, she readily agreed to do, and had 
 been with him but a very short time when she saw 
 Barrington, of whom, being of a warm constitution, 
 she became rather suddenly enamored. But to the 
 credit of our adventurer, although his affection was as 
 ardent as her own, it was not of that brutal and profli- 
 gate cast that so frequently disgraces the devious paths 
 of youthful imprudence and indiscretion. On the part 
 of Miss Egerton, the symptoms of her affection for him 
 were so obvious, that, inexperienced as he then was in 
 matters of gallantry and intrigue, he not only perceived 
 her passion but was sensible of her merit, and returned 
 her love with perfect sincerity. 
 
 It was not long before Price, urged a second time by 
 want of money, found it expedient to insinuate to the 
 unfortunate Barrington, that a young man of his ad- 
 dress and appearance might very easily find means to 
 introduce himself into some of the public places to 
 
264 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 which the merchants and chapmen of that commercial 
 city generally resorted ; and that he there might, with- 
 out any great difficulty, find opportunities of picking 
 their pockets unnoticed, and of escaping undetected, 
 more especially at that particular time, when, the fair 
 being held, a favorable juncture afforded itself of exe- 
 cuting a plan of such a nature with safety and facility. 
 The idea pleased our needy adventurer, and the plan 
 formed on it was carried into execution by him and his 
 trusty confidant John Price, the very next day, with 
 great success ; at least such it appeared to them at that 
 time, their acquisitions having amounted, on the close 
 of the evening, to about forty guineas in cash, and 
 above one hundred and fifty pounds, Irish currency, in 
 bank-notes; which, however, they artfully determined 
 not, on any account, to circulate in the part of the 
 kingdom in which they were obtained. This precau- 
 tion became peculiarly necessary ; for several gentle- 
 men having been robbed, the town took the alarm, 
 which was the greater, or at least made the more noise, 
 from the rarity of such events in that part of the king- 
 dom, where the picking of pockets is said to be very 
 little practised or known. But whatever the alarm 
 was, or whatever noise it made, neither Barrington nor 
 his accomplice was suspected. They however resolved 
 to leave Deny as soon as they could with any appear- 
 ance of propriety depart from thence : so that, having 
 played a few nights as usual, with more applause than 
 profit, they and their associates of the sock and buskin 
 removed from Londonderry to Ballyshannon, in the 
 county of Donegal, and never more returned into that 
 part of the kingdom, where George Barrington may be 
 considered as having commenced the business of a re- 
 gular and professed pickpocket, in the summer of the 
 year 1771, being at that time little more than sixteen 
 years of age. and having just laid by the profession of 
 a strolling player. 
 
 This wretched company having now become thieves 
 as well as vagrants in the eye of the law, and compelled 
 to subsist upon the plunder above mentioned, after 
 
GEORGE BARRING TON. 
 
 travelling about a fortnight, arrived at Ballyshannon. 
 Here Barrington, with the company to which he be- 
 longed, spent the autumn and the winter of the year 
 1771, playing generally on Tuesdays and Saturdays, 
 and picking pockets with John Price every day in the 
 week, whenever opportunity offered ; a business which, 
 though attended with danger and certain infamy, he 
 found more lucrative and more entertaining than that 
 of the theatre, where his fame and his proficiency were 
 by no means equal to the expectations he had raised, 
 or to the hopes that had been formed of him on his first 
 appearance at Drogheda. 
 
 From Ballyshannon, at length, having left the com- 
 pany of his friend Price, he moved to the southward, 
 with his faithful Miss Egerton, whom he had the mis- 
 fortune to lose forever in crossing the river Boyne, in 
 which she was drowned, through the ignorance, or the 
 more culpable negligence, of a ferryman. 
 
 Barrington, however, virtuous in his attachment to 
 Miss Egerton, was for some time inconsolable for the 
 loss which he had just sustained ; but being neither of 
 an age nor of a temper propitious to the continuance of 
 sorrowful sensations, he hastened to Limerick, where 
 he hoped to meet Price, his old accomplice. On his 
 arrival in that city, he learned that the person after 
 whom he had inquired had set out for Cork ten days 
 before, and thither our adventurer followed him, and 
 found him within an hour after he entered the town 
 gates. On their meeting, it was agreed on by them 
 never more to think of the stage ; a resolution which 
 was the more easily executed, as the company to which 
 they originally belonged was now broken up and dis- 
 persed. It was besides settled between them that Price 
 should pass for Barrington's servant, and that Barring- 
 ton should act the part of a young gentleman of large 
 fortune and of a noble family, who was not yet quite 
 of age, but, until he should attain that period, travelled 
 for his amusement. In pursuance of this hopeful 
 scheme, horses were purchased, and the master and 
 man, now united as knight-errant and esquire, and 
 W 
 
266 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 well equipped for every purpose of depredation, accord- 
 ingly took their determination to act their several parts 
 in the wild field of adventure; and thus, m the summer 
 of 1772, as the race grounds in the south of Ireland pre- 
 sented themselves as the fairest objects, they hastened 
 to these scenes of spoliation, and were successful even 
 beyond their expectation. 
 
 Picking pockets being rather new amongst the gentry 
 of Ireland, their want of precaution rendered them a 
 more easy prey to Mr. Barrington and his accomplice, 
 who found means to retire to Cork on the setting in of 
 winter, with a booty of nearly one thousand pounds. 
 In this city they found it convenient to fix their resi- 
 dence, at least till the next spring. And now it was 
 that Barrington first determined within himself to be- 
 come what has been called a gentleman pickpocket, 
 and to affect both the airs and importance of a man of 
 fashion. 
 
 In this desperate career of vice and folly, it was the 
 fate of Price, the preceptor of Barrington, to be first de- 
 tected in the act of picking the pocket of a gentleman 
 of high rank, for which he was tried, convicted, and in 
 a very short period sentenced to transportation, for the 
 term of seven years, to America. 
 
 Barrington, naturally alarmed at the fate of his ini- 
 quitous preceptor, without loss of time converted all his 
 movable property into cash, and taking horse, made as 
 precipitate a journey to Dublin as he possibly could. 
 
 On his arrival there, he lived rather in a private and 
 retired manner, only lurking in the darkest evenings 
 about the playhouses, where he occasionally picked up 
 a few guineas or a watch. But he was soon weary of 
 the sameness, and disgusted with the obscurity of a 
 life of comparative retirement, such as that he led in 
 the Irish capital ; so that when the spring and the fine 
 weather that accompanied it returned, he embarked on 
 board the Dorset yacht, which was then on the point 
 of sailing with the duke of Leinster for Parkgate ; and 
 before the expiration of a week, he found himself tor 
 the first time of his life on English ground. 
 
GEORGE BARRINGTON. 267 
 
 With Sir Alexander Schomberg, who commanded 
 the Dorset yacht, there were three other persons em- 
 barked, and of some distinction, from whence it ap- 
 peared that the connection which onr adventurer form- 
 ed with them had considerable effect afterwards in the 
 course of the long succession of transactions in which 
 he was engaged. A young captain was one of the 
 three who was most conspicuous, and, as it will ap- 
 pear, a striking, though an innocent cause of Barring- 
 ton's success in his projects of depredation. 
 
 It did not require so much sagacity and penetration 
 as Barrington at the time certainly possessed, to pene- 
 trate into the character of this young gentleman, and to 
 predict the good consequences that might follow an in- 
 timacy with a young man of his rank, disposition, and 
 family. Actuated by a sordid sense of the utility of 
 such a connection to one in his circumstances, the 
 adventurer employed all those base arts of flattery and 
 insinuation of which he had been long a perfect master, 
 to ingratiate himself with this gentleman ; and in this 
 design he succeeded to the utmost extent of his wishes. 
 Barrington formed an artful tale, which he told as his 
 own story, the purport of which was, that his father 
 was a man of a noble family in Ireland, and illustrious 
 in England, to which country he himself now came to 
 study law in one of the inns of court, more, however, 
 to avoid the ill-natured severity of a harsh, unrelenting 
 step-mother, which rendered his paternal mansion in a 
 great measure intolerable to him, than from any predi- 
 lection for the profession to which he intended to apply 
 himself, but the exercise of which the ample fortune 
 that he was heir to would render unnecessary. 
 
 The story took as well as could be desired by the 
 inventor of it, and it was settled between him and his 
 new friend that he should, on his arrival in town, enter 
 
 himself of the Middle Temple, where Mr. H n had 
 
 some relations and a numerous acquaintance, to whom, 
 he said, he should be happy to introduce a gentleman 
 so eminently distinguished by his talents and his ac- 
 
268 LHTES OF HIGHWAYMEN and robbers. 
 
 complishments, as well as *by his fortune and birth, as 
 Mr. Barrington was. 
 
 It was also farther agreed on between them, that 
 they should travel together to London ; and they ac- 
 cordingly the next day took a post-chaise at Parkgate, 
 and continuing their journey by easy stages through 
 Chester, Nantwich, and Coventry, where they stopped 
 two or three days, arrived by the end of the week at 
 the Bath coffee-house in Piccadilly, which, on the re- 
 commendation of the captain, who had been several 
 times before in the metropolis, was fixed upon as their 
 head-quarters for the remaining part of the summer. 
 
 But the expensive manner in which he lived with 
 
 Mr. H n, and those to whose acquaintance that 
 
 gentleman introduced him, all of them gay, sprightly 
 young fellows, who had money at command, in less 
 than a month reduced the funds which Barrington had 
 brought with him from Ireland to about twenty guineas, 
 which to him, who had been now for some years ac- 
 customed to live like a man of affluent fortune, seemed 
 to afford a very inconsiderable resource : he therefore 
 resolutely determined to procure a supply of money by 
 some means or other. One evening, while he was de- 
 liberating with himself on the choice of expedients to 
 recruit his finances, he was interrupted in his medita- 
 tions on the subject by the arrival of a party of his 
 friends with the captain, who proposed to accompany 
 them to Ranelagh, where they had agreed to meet 
 some of their acquaintance, and to spend the evening. 
 Their proposal was, without much hesitation, acceded 
 to by Barrington, and they, without further loss of time, 
 ordered coaches to set them down at that celebrated 
 place of amusement. 
 
 Walking in the middle of the gay scenes that sur- 
 rounded him, he chanced to espy the two other com- 
 panions of his voyage in the Dorset packet, to whom 
 he only made a slight bow of recognition ; and in less 
 than a quarter of an hour afterwards he saw the duke 
 of Leinster engaged deeply in conversation with two 
 ladies and a knight of the Bath, who, it afterwards 
 
GEORGE BARRINGTON. 269 
 
 turned out, was Sir William Draper ; and near these 
 he placed himself, quitting for a short time the compa- 
 ny to which he belonged. While he was stationed 
 there, an opportunity, which he considered a fair one, 
 offered itself of making a good booty, and he availed 
 himself of it: he picked the duke's pocket of above 
 eighty pounds, Sir William's of five and thirty guineas, 
 and one of the ladies of her watch, with all which he 
 got off undiscovered by the parties, and joined the 
 captain and his party as if nothing had happened out 
 of the ordinary and common routine of affairs in such 
 places of public recreation as Ranelagh. 
 
 A degree of fatality, rather unfortunate for Barring- 
 ton, it seems, occurred during the perpetration of the 
 robbery just related ; that is to say, he was observed 
 in the very act by one of the persons who came with 
 him in the Dorset yacht from Ireland to Parkgate; 
 and this man, who was also a practitioner in the same 
 trade of infamy, lost no time in communicating what 
 he saw to Barrington himself, and that in a manner 
 not by any means calculated to conceal his triumph on 
 the occasion : in fact, this gentleman's affairs being 
 pressing, he made very little ceremony of informing 
 Mr. Barrington that, unless he was willing to give him 
 a share of the plunder, he should communicate to the 
 parties robbed, without delay, the particulars of what 
 he had seen. The consequences of a proposal of this 
 nature presenting a disagreeable alternative, Mr. Bar- 
 rington, as it may be imagined, naturally chose the 
 least of two evils, and, under pretence of being attacked 
 with a sudden complaint, immediately retired with his 
 new acquaintance to town, and putting up at the 
 Golden Cross inn, at Charing-cross, the booty ac- 
 quired at Ranelagh was in some sense divided, the 
 new intruder contenting himself with taking the la- 
 dy's watch, chain, &c, which were of gold, and a ten 
 pound note, leaving all the rest of the money and the 
 bank-papers with Mr. Barrington, who, he probably 
 conceived, had run the greatest risk to obtain them at 
 first. 
 
270 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 But in order to cement the connection which these 
 two were now on the point of forming, Mr. James (for 
 by that name this new accomplice called himself,) 
 insisted upon Barrington supping with him ; and as 
 Mr. James knew the town much better than himself, 
 Barrington thought he would be a real acquisition, 
 particularly in helping him to dispose of the valuables 
 he might acquire. Picking pockets, therefore, was 
 proposed by Mr. Barrington as a joint concern. 
 
 The outlines of the future operations of these adven- 
 turous colleagues being adjusted, it was further agreed 
 upon to have another interview on the next day at a 
 tavern in the Strand, there to regulate the plan of their 
 future conduct; and affairs being so far arranged, 
 Barrington returned to his lodgings at the Bath coffee- 
 house, where, luckily enough, neither captain H -n 
 
 nor any of his party were at that time arrived from 
 Ranelagh. 
 
 The next morning, at breakfast, he informed his 
 friend the captain, that on his return last night, he 
 chanced to meet a very worthy relation of his, Sir 
 Fitzwilliam Barrington, who engaged him that day to 
 dinner; so that it would be out of his power to make 
 one of the party that were to spend the day with the 
 captain at the Thatched-house tavern ; but that, how- 
 ever, he would endeavor to contrive matters so as to 
 join them early in the evening, and stay to supper with 
 them, if they were bent upon keeping it up to a late 
 hour. 
 
 This apology was received without any suspicion by 
 the gentleman to whom it was made, as it accounted 
 plausibly enough for his fellow-traveller's absenting 
 himself, notwithstanding a kind of prior engagement to 
 Mr. H n. 
 
 Afterwards, Barrington being dressed, called a coach 
 and drove to the Crown and Anchor tavern, where he 
 found Mr. James, who had been for some time waiting 
 for him. The cloth being removed, and the servants 
 withdrawn, these worthy gentlemen entered upon busi- 
 ness. It was agreed upon, that whatever either 
 
GEORGE BARRINGTON. 271 
 
 acquired, should be equally divided between them ; 
 and that in the sale of watches, jewels, or any other 
 articles they might have to dispose of, both should be 
 present. By this provision, no suspicion of fraud could 
 be entertained ; and thus Barrington got what he 
 extremely wished, and greatly wanted, an introduction 
 to a fence, or a receiver of stolen goods. It was farther 
 settled by them, that while the captain remained in 
 town, they should take care not to be seen together, 
 and that Mr. James should resume his long neglected 
 habit of a clergyman. These weighty conditions, and 
 some others of equal magnitude and importance, being 
 ultimately adjusted to the satisfaction of these system- 
 atic plunderers, it was determined on that they should 
 meet regularly twice a week, that is, on Tuesdays and 
 Fridays, to settle with each other; but never, if it 
 could possibly be avoided, twice at the same house. 
 Having then adjourned to the next Tuesday, and fixed 
 on the Devil tavern, at Temple-bar, as the place of 
 their next meeting, our adventurers separated for^that 
 time, Barrington going, according to his appointment, 
 to the Thatched-house tavern, and reaching it about 
 eight in the evening, where he found his friend the 
 captain and a large party of his acquaintance. Though 
 rather far gone in liquor, most of them knew him per- 
 sonally, and considering him in the light in which he 
 
 was represented to them by captain H n, as a 
 
 young man of condition, they were delighted with his 
 company. He only waited till the bills were called 
 for, and the reckoning discharged, when, there being 
 no farther obstacle to a hasty retreat, he plundered 
 those who were most off their guard ; or rather those 
 who, as he supposed, were possessed of the most por- 
 table kind of property. Still, as the prey then made 
 consisted more of watches and trinkets than ready 
 cash, he was under the necessity of calling upon Mr. 
 James, his new friend, next morning, who readily 
 introduced him to a man, a receiver of stolen property, 
 and who paying them what they deemed an adequate 
 consideration, they made the first division with as much 
 
272 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 apparent satisfaction as if they had been lawful dealers 
 in the commodities of which they had unjustly de- 
 prived the right owners. 
 
 So strongly did appearance plead for him at this 
 time, that Barrington's depredation was never imputed 
 to him by those who suffered in consequence of it ; and 
 though similar offences were at different seasons, for 
 upwards of two years, committed by him without sus- 
 picion or detection, he preserved his fame, and even 
 extended his acquaintance. With certain superficial qua- 
 lifications for shining in company, and yet a stranger 
 to honor or honesty, in the summer of the year 1775, in 
 the course of his depredations, he visited, as his cus- 
 tom was, the most celebrated watering-places ; and 
 among the rest he went to Brighton, which at that 
 time, though frequented by genteel company, was far 
 from having arrived at the celebrity which it has since 
 acquired, especially since the conclusion of the peace 
 with France. But notwithstanding the paucity of 
 numbers at this watering-place, he is said to have had 
 the address to ingratiate himself into the notice and 
 favor of the late duke of Ancaster, with several other 
 persons of rank and property, who all considered him 
 as a man of genius and ability, and as a gentleman of 
 fortune and noble family. 
 
 But, in tracing all Mr. Barrington's very singular 
 connections, it is necessary to remark, that about the 
 conclusion of this winter he got acquainted with one 
 Lowe, a very singular character, and one who, like his 
 friend James, he occasionally made use of to vend his 
 ill-gotten property. 
 
 Mr. Barrington's new junction with Mr. Lowe hav- 
 ing rendered Mr. James rather a dead weight upon his 
 hands, he began to think about breaking with him, 
 which he did not find a difficult matter, as James, 
 having at bottom some remorse of conscience for his 
 neglect of the laws of justice and moral obligation, very 
 easily quitted Mr. Barrington's connection ; and what 
 is more extraordinary, being a Roman Catholic by 
 profession, retired to a monastery upon the continent, 
 
GEORGE BARRINGTON. - 273 
 
 there in all probability to end his days in piety and 
 peace. Barrington, on the other hand, seemed to in- 
 crease in temerity and desperation ; for on his forming 
 a connection with Lowe, which was but a short time 
 previous to that evening of the month of January which 
 was observed as the anniversary of the queen's birth- 
 day, it was resolved on between them, that, habited as 
 a clergyman, he should repair to court, and there 
 endeavor, not only to pick the pockets of some of the 
 company, but, what was a bolder and a much more 
 novel attempt, to cut off the diamond orders of some of 
 the knights of the Garter, Bath, and Thistle, who on 
 such days usually wear the coMars of their respective 
 orders over their coats. In this enterprize he succeeded 
 beyond the most sanguine expectations that could have 
 been formed by either his new accomplice Lowe or 
 himself; for he found means to deprive a nobleman of 
 his diamond order, and also contrived to getaway from 
 the palace without suspicion. This being an article of 
 too much value to dispose of in England, it is reported 
 that it was sold to a Dutchman, or rather to a Dutch 
 Jew, who came over from Holland once or twice a year 
 for the sole object of buying jewels that had been 
 stolen ; and though a stranger, he is generally reported 
 to have given a much higher price for such articles 
 than could have been gotten from the receivers in 
 town. 
 
 The celebrated Russian prince OrlofT paid his first 
 visit to England in the winter of 1775. The high 
 degree of estimation in which that nobleman had long 
 been held by the late empress Catharine, had ulti- 
 mately heaped upon him not a few of her distinguish- 
 ing favors. Among other things of this nature, she 
 had expressed her approbation of his merits by pre 
 senting him with a gold snuff-box, set with brilliants 
 generally supposed to have been worth no less a sum 
 than thirty thousand pounds. This distinguishing 
 trophy having caught the eye of Barrington, impelled 
 him to contrive means to get it into his possession, and 
 he thought a fit opportunity presented itself one night at 
 
274 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 Oovent Garden theatre, where, getting near the prince, 
 he had the dexterity to convey it out of his excellency's 
 waistcoat pocket into his own ; when, being imme- 
 diately suspected by the prince, he seized him by the 
 collar; but, in the bustle that took place, Barrington 
 slipped the box into his hand, which that* nobleman 
 gladly retained, though Barrington, to the astonish- 
 ment of all around, was secured and lodged in Tothill- 
 fields Bridewell till the Wednesday following, when 
 his examination took place at the public office in 
 Bow street. 
 
 Sir John Fielding being at that time the magistrate, 
 Barrington represented himself to him as a native of 
 Ireland, of an affluent and respectable family. He 
 said that he had been educated in the medical line, 
 and came to England to improve himself by the extent 
 of his connections. To this plausible representation he 
 added so many tears, and seemed to rest so much upon 
 his being an unfortunate gentleman, rather than a 
 guilty culprit, that prince Orloff declining to prosecute 
 him, he was dismissed with an admonition from the 
 magistrate to amend his future conduct ; but this, it 
 will appear, had no manner of influence upon his sub- 
 sequent proceedings. In fact, Barrington having gone 
 too far to recede, every one now taking alarm at his 
 character and conduct, and the public prints naturally 
 holding him up as a cheat and impostor, he was even 
 forsaken by those who, until that discovery of his 
 practices, generally countenanced him, and enjoyed his 
 company as a young gentleman of no common abilities. 
 
 Being in the lobby of the lords one day, when an 
 appeal of an interesting nature was expected to come 
 on, so that Barrington thought to profit by numbers of 
 genteel people that generally attend; unhappily for 
 Barrington' s projects, a gentleman recognised his per- 
 son, and applying to the deputy usher of the black rod, 
 Barrington was disgracefully turned out, and, of course, 
 totally disappointed of the harvest he had promised 
 himself. 
 
 Barrington, having by some means heard that this 
 
GEORGE BARRINGTON. 275 
 
 gentleman was the person who had denounced him to 
 the keeper of the lobby, was so indiscreet as to threaten 
 him with revenge for what he deemed an unmerited 
 injury ; but, the magistrates thinking otherwise, they 
 granted, upon that gentleman's complaint, a warrant 
 against Barrington to bind him over to keep the peace. 
 His credit having sunk so very low, that not one of all 
 his numerous acquaintance would become a surety for 
 him, he was compelled to go to Tothill-nelds Bridewell, 
 where he remained a considerable time under confine- 
 ment, from his inability to procure the bail that was 
 required. However, having again obtained a release 
 from that disagreeable quarter, he had no alternative 
 but that of his old profession, and, therefore, in about 
 three months afterwards, we find him delected in pick- 
 ing the pocket of a low woman, at Drury-Lane thea- 
 tre, for which, being indicted and convicted at the Old 
 Bailey, he was sentenced to ballast-heaving, or, in other 
 words, to three years' hard labor on the river Thames, 
 on board of the hulks at Woolwich. As soon as it was 
 convenient, in the spring of 1777, Barrington was put 
 on board one of these vessels. 
 
 A sudden remove from ease and affluence to a scene 
 of wretched servitude and suffering, and the privation 
 of almost every comfort in life, could not but have a 
 most sensible effect upon a man in his condition. In 
 short, he was not only harassed and fatigued with 
 labor, to which he had been unaccustomed, but even 
 disgusted with the filthy language of his fellow-convicts, 
 whose blasphemous effusions, which they seemed to 
 make use of by way of amusement, must have been a 
 constant source of the most disagreeable sensations in 
 the mind of almost any person not totally lost to the 
 feelings and the decencies of civilized, or even a savage 
 state of existence. At length the mental, as well 
 as the corporeal sufferings of Barrington, did not escape 
 the notice of Messrs. Erskine and Duncan Campbell, 
 the superintendents of the convicts ; for, in consequence 
 of Barrington's good behavior, and through the inter- 
 ference of these gentlemen, he was again set at liberty, 
 
276 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. . 
 
 after sustaining nearly a twelvemonth's severe suffering 
 on board the hulks of Woolwich. 
 
 Still, nothing that Barrington had yet undergone 
 was sufficient to produce any cordial repentance in his 
 mind. He again entered into the full practice of his 
 former profession. In less than six months after his 
 liberation from hard labor, he was detected by one 
 Payne, a very zealous constable in the city, in the very 
 act of picking pockets at St. Sepulchre's church during 
 divine service, and being convicted upon undeniable 
 evidence at the ensuing Old Bailey sessions, he was 
 a second time sentenced to hard labor on board the 
 hulks, and that for five years. 
 
 It was upon his trial on this occasion, that Barring- 
 ton was first noticed in the public prints as an able 
 speaker. He then essayed, with no small degree of 
 artifice, to interest the feelings of the court in his 
 behalf; but the evidences of his guilt being too forcible 
 and repeated, and all his efforts proving abortive, he 
 was once more removed to the hulks, about the middle 
 of the year 1778. Being a second time in this humi- 
 liating and disgraceful situation, he found his imaginary 
 consequence so much hurt, that, failing in a variety of 
 plans to effect his escape, his next attempt was to des- 
 troy himself. For this purpose, he took an opportunity 
 to be seen stabbing himself with a penknife in the 
 breast ; but as the wound, by the immediate applica- 
 tion of medical assistance, was slpwly healed, he con- 
 tinued to linger in this new state of wretchedness, till, 
 happening to be seen by a gentleman who came to 
 visit the hulks, it produced another event in his favor. 
 
 The gentleman just alluded to being most sensibly 
 affected by the dejected and squalid appearance of Bar- 
 rington, made a most successful use of his influence 
 with government to obtain Barrington 's release, upon 
 the condition that he should leave the kingdom. To 
 this as Barrington gladly assented, he generously sup- 
 plied him with a sum of money to defray the expense 
 of his removal to Ireland, where it is understood this 
 unhappy offender always persisted in stating that he 
 
GEORGE HARRINGTON. 277 
 
 had friends ar.d relatives of credit and character. 
 In London he did not think proper to stay longer than 
 was needful to procure necessaries for his journey ; he 
 therefore took the Chester coach, and in the course of a 
 week was enabled to reach the Irish capital, where his 
 fame having arrived before, he was looked upon with 
 such an eye of suspicion, that he was shortly appre- 
 hended for picking the pocket of an Irish noble- 
 man of a gold watch and his money at one of the 
 theatres, and was soon after committed to the New 
 Gaol to be tried upon the charge, but was acquitted for 
 want of evidence. 
 
 Though he was acquitted on this occasion, he was 
 perfectly convinced that the Irish capital would be too 
 warm to retain him. He quickly determined to leave 
 Ireland, and accordingly removed to the northern parts 
 of that kingdom, through which he took his way to 
 Edinburgh, where he concluded that he might, for 
 some time at least, commit his depredations with greater 
 safety and facility than he could do either in London 
 or Dublin. 
 
 But, in the opinion which he had formed of the cha- 
 racter of the Scots, he soon learned by experience that 
 he was grossly mistaken ; for he was quickly observed 
 in the capital of Scotland, where the police is more 
 vigilant and severe than in most other parts of the 
 British dominions. He therefore thought it prudent to 
 depart from Edinburgh, where his gleanings were com- 
 paratively small. 
 
 However, being determined to return to London, he 
 took Chester in his way, and it being fair-time there, he is 
 said to have contrived to get possession of the amount 
 of six hundred pounds in cash and bank notes, witli 
 which he got clear off. 
 
 Such are the delusions of vice and the fatal sweets 
 of ill-gotten wealth, that, though additional danger 
 attended his public appearance, from the infraction of 
 the terms on which he was liberated from his confine- 
 ment on board the hulks, (which were those of his 
 leaving the kingdom and never more returning to it,) 
 
278 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN Ax\D ROBBERS. 
 
 still he frequented the theatres, the Opera House, and 
 the Pantheon, with tolerable success. But he was now 
 too notorious to be long secure : he was closely watched 
 and well-nigh detected at the latter of these places ; at 
 least, such strong suspicions were entertained by the 
 magistrates of his conduct on the occasion, that he was 
 taken into custody, and committed to Newgate. 
 
 Here again, for want of evidence, he got clear of the 
 charge brought against him ; but, notwithstanding this, 
 he was unexpectedly detained at the instance of Mr. 
 Duncan Campbell, the superintendent of the convicts, 
 for having returned to England in violation of the con- 
 dition on which his majesty was pleased to grant him 
 a remission of the punishment which he was sentenced 
 to undergo on board the hulks ; and the consequence of 
 the detainer was, that he was made what is called a 
 fine at Newgate, during the unexpired part of the time 
 that he was originally to have served on the Thames. 
 When the period of his captivity in this prison expired, 
 he was, as a matter of course, set at liberty ; and as 
 usual, no sooner obtained his liberty, than he returned 
 to his former practices. He, however, was now more 
 cautious ; and being connected with some accomplices 
 of his own cast, he was not so easily detected as lie 
 might have been with others less experienced. 
 
 In a state of alarm and anxiety, he lived a consider- 
 able time in the society of the most profligate and 
 abandoned characters of the metropolis, when he was 
 seen to pick the pocket of Mr. Le Mesurier, at Drury- 
 lane playhouse, and was immediately apprehended. 
 Charge of him was given to one Blandy, a constable, 
 who, through negligence or corruption, suffered him 
 to make his escape. The proceedings against him 
 were carried on to an outlawry, and various methods 
 were made use of to detect him, for nearly two years, 
 without effect. 
 
 But while the lawyers were outlawing him, and the 
 constables endeavoring to take him, he was travelling 
 in various disguises and characters through the north- 
 ern counties of this kingdom. He visited the great 
 
GEORGE BAR KINGTON. 279 
 
 towns in those parts as a quack-doctor, or as a clergy- 
 man ; sometimes he went with an E. O. table, and 
 sometimes he pretended to be a rider to a manufactur- 
 ing house at Birmingham or Manchester; and travel- 
 ling on horseback, ^ith a decent deportment and grave 
 appearance, the account which he thought proper to 
 give of himself vas credited, without any difficulty, by 
 those who ques oned him. 
 
 But, in spit of all these precautions, it sometimes 
 happened thaf ne was known by gentlemen whom he 
 met, once pp.ticularly in Lincolnshire; yet no one 
 offered to mr ,est or intercept him, until he arrived at 
 Newcastle-r pon-Tyne, where, qn being recognised, he 
 was susper d& of picking pockets, and, on inquiry, was 
 discovered to be an outlaw : upon which he was re- 
 moved b a writ of habeas corpus to London, and im- 
 prisoned in Newgate, where he arrived miserable and 
 so dejc ted, that on learning his circumstances, some 
 of hir friends made a subscription for him, by" which 
 he was enabled to employ counsel, and to take legal 
 measures to have the outlawry against him reversed. 
 
 This being effected, he was tried for the original 
 offence, that of stealing Mr. Le Mesurier's purse ; but, 
 through the absence of the Rev. Mr. Adeane, a material 
 witness for the prosecution, he was acquitted. Being 
 once more enlarged, he again set off for Ireland, in 
 company with a young man of the name of Hubert, 
 well known in town for his fraud on the duke of York. 
 With this accomplice, he was so infatuated as to 
 endeavor to carry on his depredations in Dublin, where 
 it was never his fortune to remain for any length of 
 time undetected ; for, Hubert being taken in the act 
 of picking a gentleman's pocket, and handing the pro- 
 perty to Barrington, he with great difficulty made his 
 escape to England, where he rambled about for some 
 time previously to his arrival in the capital, which he 
 had scarcely entered, when he was taken into custody 
 for picking Mr. Henry Hare Townsend's pocket of a 
 gold watch. 
 
 Hubert, his accomplice, was tried at Dublin, and 
 
280 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 sentenced to transportation for seven years ; but he 
 afterwards contrived to make his escape. 
 
 On Wednesday morning, September 15th, 1790. 
 Barrington was put to the bar to be arraigned on an 
 indictment charging him with stealing, on the 1st of 
 September, 1790, in the parish of Enfield, a gold watch, 
 chain, and seals, the property of Henry Hare Town- 
 send, Esq. Upon this occasion Barrington displayed 
 all the talents which it has been universally admitted 
 he possessed; but in spite of a long speech, which pro- 
 fessed, whether sincere or assumed, great contrition for 
 his past offences, and a determination to amend his life 
 for the future, he was convicted, and sentenced by th* 
 judge to seven years' transportation. 
 
 During the voyage to Port Jackson, Barrington ren- 
 dered an essential service in quelling a mutiny in the 
 vessel. Upon this occasion the captain evinced his 
 gratitude for the services he had performed, and when 
 they had reached the Cape, at the recommendation of 
 the former, he received a hundred dollars reward for 
 his zeal and activity. 
 
 On their arrival at Port Jackson, Barrington having 
 been recommended to the governor, was placed in the 
 first instance at Tamgabbe as a subordinate, and was 
 soon advanced to be a principal watchman, in which 
 situation he acquitted himself as a useful and active 
 officer ; insomuch that the governor determined to 
 withdraw him from the convicts ; and at the same time 
 that he received his instrument of emancipation, he 
 was presented with a grant of thirty acres of land at 
 Paramatta. He was subsequently appointed superin- 
 tendent of the convicts ; and although not permitted to 
 return to England, was invested with all the immuni- 
 ties of a freeman, a settler, and a civil officer, and had 
 the satisfaction to know that his diligence and activity 
 were not only without suspicion, but were fully appre- 
 ciated. 
 
 It was here that Barrington resolved to revise the 
 notes he had taken during the voyage, and of describ- 
 ing more fully the places they had touched at. Ht 
 
JAMES PORTER. 281 
 
 has accordingly produced a very useful and instructive 
 work. 
 
 In addition to this performance, he compiled a com • 
 plete history of the country itself, from its first discovery, 
 comprehending an account of its original inhabitants, 
 their customs and manners, accompanied with an his- 
 torical detail of the proceedings of the colony from its 
 foundation to his own time. 
 
 He continued, in the situation in which the governor 
 had placed him till his death ; and performed the duties 
 of his office with an unwearied assiduity, which at last 
 superinduced a general decay of nature, of which he 
 died in the year 1811. 
 
 4&ac*©it Life** 
 
 JAMES PORTER 
 
 Was an Irishman, and a weaver by trade. He had 
 been a robber in his own country. We know not what 
 events induced him to seek a refuge in America, or 
 what were his first adventures on this side of the Atlan- 
 tic. We first find him in Philadelphia, ostensibly work- 
 ing at his trade, but in reality gaining his livelihood by 
 dishonest practices. He had two accomplices, George 
 Wilson and Abraham Poteet, weavers, who had learned 
 their trade in the penitentiary. The former was but 
 twenty-three years of age; yet, though his days were 
 few, his iniquities were many. Poteet had been con- 
 victed at the Baltimore city court of stealing four 
 handkerchiefs, for which he was sentenced to five 
 years' imprisonment. For a second theft he was sen- 
 tenced to imprisonment. He had also been convicted 
 of breaking prison, of attempting a stage robbery and 
 wounding the driver, and of shooting at the keeper of 
 the Baltimore penitentiary. He was a native of Balti- 
 more, and Wilson also was an American. They be- 
 came acquainted in the penitentiary, and weie jointly 
 
282 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND JOBBERS. 
 
 concerned in the attempt to break out, in which the 
 life of the keeper was endangered. Such were James 
 Porter and his associates. 
 
 Porter and Poteet became' tired of stealing wee things, 
 for so silver spoons were denominated by Porter, and 
 resolved to rob the Reading mail, in order to make their 
 fortune at once. To prepare for this exploit Porter and 
 Wilson crossed the Schuylkill, on the 20th of Novem- 
 ber, 1829, and broke into the shop of Mr. Watt, a gun- 
 smith. They took thence five pistols and two powder- 
 flasks. After this the three companions repeatedly 
 practised with their pistols to ascertain their qualities. 
 
 On the 6th of December, the mail stage started from 
 Philadelphia at two in the morning, driven by one Sa- 
 muel M'Crea. There were nine passengers inside, and 
 another on the box with the driver. The night was 
 dark and cloudy. When the stage had got two miles 
 from the city and was nearly opposite Turner's lane, 
 Porter started from the road-side, took the off leading 
 horse by the head and turned him round. At the same 
 time Wilson and Poteet came up, one on each side of 
 the coach, with presented pistols, bidding the driver 
 stop, "or they would blow his d — d brains out." He 
 struck the horses with his whip, but could not make 
 them go forward. Poteet then ordered the driver and 
 the passenger who sat beside him to come down. The 
 driver obeyed, and the passenger was about descending, 
 when Porter swore at his comrades for not putting out 
 the lamps. Poteet put out the lamp on his side with 
 the butt of his pistol : Wilson merely broke the glass of 
 the lamp next him. Porter then left the horses' heads, 
 ran up and dashed the light out with his pistol. He 
 asked the passenger if he had any weapons, and being 
 answered in the negative, took his handkerchief and 
 tied his hands with it. The robbers then rifled the 
 passenger and bound the driver. Poteet asked the 
 driver if lie did not think this a very rough introduction. 
 He answered that it was The robber then asked him 
 if he g>>t his living by stage driving, and he replied that 
 he did, and "it was a hard way too." "Well," said 
 
JAMES PORTER. 283 
 
 the ruffian, " this is the way we get our living, and 'tis 
 very hard with us sometimes." While these matters 
 were going on Poteet and Wilson held their pistols in 
 their hands, but Porter, more collected, thrust his into 
 his bosom. 
 
 This done, Porter and Poteet went to the doors, while 
 Wilson watched the two bondmen. Porter told the 
 passengers they should receive no injury if they did not 
 resist. A Mr. Clarke proposed to attack the robbers, 
 but was overruled by the rest of the passengers. The 
 gentlemen then concealed some of their valuables. 
 Porter asked if any of them were armed, and being an- 
 swered in the negative, answered sneeringly, that "it 
 was a pity." 
 
 The thieves next compelled the true men to alight, 
 one by one. Porter searched them, and tied their hands 
 •with their kerchiefs. As fast as he tied them he turned 
 them over to Poteet, who kept them quiet with his pis- 
 tol. One of the passengers, after being tied, asked the 
 robbers for a quid of tobacco, which was put into his 
 mouth by Poteet. Another was very reluctant to part 
 with his watch, which he said had been long in his 
 family, and at his urgent entreaty Poteet restored it. 
 From another, who was a physician, Poteet took the 
 seal of a corporation and a case of lancets, but put 
 them back into the doctor's pockets on being told what 
 they were. The gentleman then asked Porter for half 
 a dollar to pay for his breakfast, and the robber com- 
 plied. Another of the passengers asked Porter to re- 
 store his papers. u O," said the ruffian, "I dare say 
 all this business will be published, and then I shall 
 know where to direct the papers. I will send you a 
 letter." 
 
 Mr. Clarke was the last but one who came out of the 
 coach. As Porter was plundering him he said, that if 
 the other passengers had followed his advice they would 
 not have been robbed. l{ Well done !" replied the rob- 
 ber. " I like to see a man of spunk." After being tied. 
 Mr. Clarke walked up to Poteet, in order to he able to 
 recognise him if they should meet again. The rogue 
 
 12 
 
284 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 bade him stand off. "I hope," said Mr. Clarke, " you 
 are not afraid of a small man, and he bound too." 
 "No, sir," said Poteet, "but I don't want to be better 
 acquainted with you." "I hope," rejoined Mr. Clarke, 
 " that we shall have a longer acquaintance than this 
 yet.'- " 1 hope not, sir," said Poteet. On Mr. Clarke's 
 again observing that the passengers would have done 
 better to resist, Porter remarked that if they had, they 
 would have seen the consequences. 
 
 After the passengers had all been examined, the rob- 
 bers took the baggage out of the coach and from before 
 and behind it. They then tried to open the boot in 
 which the mail bags were contained, but finding some 
 difficulty, they compelled the driver to do it. Mr. Clarke 
 now remarked that another stage would soon be along, 
 and this intelligence quickened their proceedings. One 
 of them busied himself in rifling the mails and trunks, 
 while the other two put the passengers into the coach 
 again without- untying them. They tied the driver 
 again and lifted him into his seat, after which they tied 
 the leading horses to the fence by the road side. This 
 done, the robbers went off, so softly that neither the 
 driver nor any of the passengers were aware of their 
 departure. 
 
 The gentlemen sat still in the coach some minutes 
 after they were gone, till one of them contrived to untie 
 himself, and unbound the rest. After some consulta- 
 tion, it was thought best to return to the city. When 
 they arrived at the post-office a person was despatched 
 to the scene of the robbery, where he found the mail 
 bags cut open and the packages and newspapers scat- 
 tered around, but the villains had carried away the 
 letters. 
 
 On the 16th of December, Wilson carried one of the 
 watches they had taken to Crosswell Holmes, a pawn- 
 broker, and pledged it for twenty dollars. He said he 
 was a carpenter unable to get employment, and was 
 therefore obliged to raise money on his watch. He 
 i greed to pay Mr. Holmes in — days, with two dollars 
 (commission, and signed the obligation "John James, 
 North Second street." 
 
JAMES PORTER. 285 
 
 On the 21st, Porter carried another watch (a golden 
 one) to a Mr. Prentiss, a pawnbroker, and asked *sixty 
 dollars on it. Mr. Prentiss refused to advance more 
 than forty-five, when Porter left him, saying he could 
 get fifty anywhere. On this occasion he represented 
 himself as a carpenter, who wanted money to repair 
 his house. The next day Wilson called on Mr. Pren- 
 tiss with the same watch, saying the gentleman who 
 owned it had made up his mind to take the forty-five 
 dollars offered, and that he would act as his agent. Mr. 
 Prentiss gave him the money, and wrote a receipt, which 
 Wilson signed " George Brown, for John Keys." 
 
 Nothing occurred to direct suspicion to either of our 
 rogues as the robbers of the mail till the middle of Ja- 
 nuary, when a Mr. JefTers, a police officer of Baltimore, 
 found reason to believe that Poteet and Wilson were 
 the persons who shot at the keeper of the penitentiary 
 and at the stage driver before mentioned. He sought 
 them, and found Wilson first, in a tavern. The robber 
 drew a pistol from his pocket and bade Mr. JefFers stand 
 off, but the latter seized him by the wrist and collar and 
 held him till the landlord came into the room. The 
 landlord took the pistol from Wilson at the request of 
 JefFers, who then asked the culprit for the other, but he 
 denied having any. However, after the police officer 
 had nearly strangled him he gave up another. Mr. 
 Jeffers thrust him into a chair, when he said, " Let me 
 stand up, and I '11 give it to you." With the landlord's 
 assistance, Mr. JefFers took him to a magistrate's office. 
 He was committed to prison. 
 
 The next day Mr. JefFers visited him, and told him he 
 had heard that two men had offered to pawn a gold 
 watch, and he believed from the description that he was 
 one of them. At the same time he gave Wilson a de- 
 scription of the other man. Wilson replied that it was 
 Porter, and but for him, he, Wilson, would not have 
 been in this difficulty. He added that Porter had a 
 better right to suffer than himself, and he would there- 
 fore disclose the whole matter. His story, as told to 
 Mr. Jeffers, was as follows. 
 
286 LIVES OF HIGHWAYMEN AND ROBBERS. 
 
 He had gone out three several times with Porter to 
 rob the Lancaster mail, but his heart failing him, they 
 returned without effecting their purpose. When Porter 
 and Poteet proposed to rob the Reading mail, he would 
 have had nothing to do with it, had he not feared that 
 Porter would kill him if he refused. He then described 
 the robbery, and the part each had taken in it, pretty 
 much as we have related above. While the pillage was 
 going on, he said, he was very anxious to get away, but 
 Porter declared he would not hurry himself. He added 
 that he was sorry he had ever seen Porter. He was 
 steady at work in Philadelphia till he came and seduced 
 him from his employment. He believed Porter would 
 a? lief kill a man as eat his breakfast. All this confes- 
 sion took place without any inducement on the part of 
 Jeffers. 
 
 This confession put the police of Baltimore on the 
 look-out for Porter and Poteet. On the ninth of Febru- 
 ary, Mr. Stewart, a constable, met Porter in the street, 
 and accosted him with a question concerning his health. 
 He added that he had been looking for him all day, and 
 must now take him with him. Porter asked him what 
 he wanted, and on what authority he arrested him. 
 The officer replied that he carried his authority in his 
 face, and then asked if he knew Wilson or Poteet, or 
 could tell where they might be found. He denied all 
 knowledge of them, but followed Mr. Stewart quietly 
 to his house. The officer searched him, and took from 
 him a powder-flask and a pair of pistols. Porter asked 
 if he meant to keep them, and the constable replied that 
 he did. Porter very sternly said, " I hope I shall live 
 to buy another pair for somebody." He admitted be- 
 fore a magistrate that he knew Poteet. 
 
 Mr. Stewart conducted Wilson to Philadelphia first, 
 and Porter afterwards. After they got into the stage, 
 Wilson said that he believed his case was hopeless, and 
 that he would plead guilty to every charge brought 
 against him. Mr. Stewart asked him if he were not 
 afraid to undertake to rob a stage so full of passengers. 
 11 No," replied the villain, " three good men could rob 
 a dozen at any time." 
 
JAMES PORTER. 287 
 
 Poteet was also arrested, and consented to save his 
 own life by becoming states evidence. 
 
 Porter's demeanor alter his arrest was marked by 
 that cool courage that seems to have been the only fa- 
 vorable trait in his character. He spoke freely of his 
 past life, without showing the least compunction, and 
 said that if the passengers had resisted, he would not 
 have scrupled to shed blood. 
 
 On the 26th of April, 1830, James Porter and George 
 Wilson were brought before the circuit court, and the 
 grand' jury presented six billsof indictment against them. 
 
 They pleaded not guilty to all these indictments, and 
 applied for separate trials,^ which was granted. 
 
 On the trial Wilson was identified as one of the rob- 
 bers, by the evidence of some of the passengers, as well 
 as that of Poteet. The watches taKen from the passen- 
 gers, and pawned by him, were produced in court and 
 sworn to. So were the weapons stolen from Mr. Watt's 
 shop. The other facts relating to the robbery were 
 proved, in substance, as we have given them. 
 
 The jury found a verdict of guilty. 
 
 Porter was next arraigned, and found guilty on the 
 same evidence. Sentence of death was passed upon 
 him and Wilson. After sentence Porter showed con- 
 trition, but suffered with the same hardihood that he 
 had exhibited throughout. We can accord him no 
 pity. He was the master spirit, the ringleader, the 
 captain of a band of highway robbers. He had col- 
 lected a gang about him, drilled, marshalled, and 
 equipped them, and led them forth to an unholy war- 
 fare against the peace and interest of society. 
 
 Wilson was pardoned by president Jackson ; for what 
 reason, we cannot pretend to divine. The pardon set 
 forth that certain disclosures were expected from him 
 I ut we never heard that he made any. 
 
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