RICHARD TURPIN.
There never was, perhaps, a man in the particular profession to which this notorious fellow devoted himself, 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 horse. 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 journey. 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 the son of John Turpin, of Hempstead in Essex, and was put apprentice to a butcher in Whitechapel, where he served his time, during which period he was frequently guilty of misdemeanors, and conducted himself in a loose and disorderly manner.
As soon as his time was up, he married, and set up in business for himself at Suson in Essex, where, having no credit in the market, and no money in his pocket, he was shortly reduced to the necessity of maintaining 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 Suson, or of following the trade of a butcher in that county. 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 he 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 desperate 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 gentlemen’s parks of them, insomuch that they obtained a considerable sum of money. They followed deer-stealing only for some time; but not finding the money come in so quickly as they wished, and being narrowly watched by the park-keepers, they, by Turpin’s direction, resolved to go round the country at nights, and when they could find a house that had any thing valuable 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 this 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 naturally loth to part with it. Some of the gang were inclined to believe her, but Turpin, with an oath, declared 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 compelled her to disclose, and the gang retired with about four 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. 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 getting 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 sitting 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, they proceeded 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 hundred pounds in money, besides other property, including all the plate in the house. While this was proceeding, 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 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 themselves, inviting the company to partake, indeed compelling 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 provided, 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. Lawrence, 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 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, plundered 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 servants, 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 injury. In their search, besides the beforementioned particulars, they met with a chest belonging to one of Mr. Lawrence’s sons, which they broke open, taking therefrom twenty pounds, and all his linen. Some of these things were afterwards traced to a place called Duck-lane, where two of these fellows were apprehended.
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 instance, 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 offer 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 evening of the 4th of February; and further, a reward of fifty pounds to every person who should be instrumental 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 quantity of jewels and linen, and the unfortunate Mr. Francis’ 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 house near Leigh. Not rightly knowing, however, the way into the jolly justice’s domicile, they concealed themselves under some furze bushes; but while they were thus lying perdue there, they heard several persons 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, induced, 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 prevented their being taken, as otherwise they unavoidably 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 promise 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 Westminster, 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 another, but to go altogether upon his own bottom; and 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 excellent opportunity to recruit his pockets, and accordingly, 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 unceremoniously addressed. “Deliver!” shouted Turpin, “or by —— I’ll 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 several holes purposely made, what passengers went by on 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; Turpin’s wife supplied them with food, and frequently remained in the place all night with them.
From the forest, King and Turpin once took a ride to Bungay in Suffolk, where the latter had seen two 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 attempt to deprive two hard-working women of their little 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 children 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 proposition. 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 apprehension 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 neighborhood of his cave, observed some one who, he supposed, was poaching for hares, and saluted him with, “No hares near this thicket; it’s of no use seeking, you’ll not find any.”—“Perhaps I shall a Turpin, though,” replied the fellow, and levelled his piece at him. Seeing his danger, Turpin commenced a parley, retreating at the same time by degrees towards his cave, the groom following him with his gun presented. “I surrender,” 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’ll get it of her, and pay you presently.” When Turpin was gone, the butcher apprized the company who he was, and added, “I’ll just get my five pounds of him, and then we’ll 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 calculated 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 another, for, overtaking a gentleman, the owner of several race-horses, he at once appropriated his steed and a handsome whip to his own peculiar use, and recommending his own broken-down jade to the kind consideration 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 described was left at an inn in Whitechapel; he accordingly 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 distinguishable upon the remaining part. They charged a constable with him, but he becoming frightened, and on the assurance that if he spoke the truth he should be released, 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 Turpin, 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 coward; 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’ll be the death of you; for I have lost the best fellowman 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 shooting 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, thinking 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, continuing 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 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’ll 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, however, refusing to find, he was committed to the house of correction. His conduct thus excited great suspicion; 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 sureties; 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 circumstances 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 something 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 accommodated 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 mare and a foal which he had sold to a gentleman, and also the horse on which he rode when he came to Beverly, to be stolen from them off the fens in Lincolnshire. We need not add that Mr. Palmer was one and the same person with Dick Turpin, the notorious highwayman.
Turpin at one time, with another fellow, laid a scheme for seizing the government money, ordered to be paid to the 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 executed 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 churchyard. 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, whoever they were, however, took all possible care to secure 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 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 adventures of this notorious criminal in his own words, since it will serve to show far better than any moral reflections 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 conscience 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. Martin’s-in-the-Fields. Having the misfortune 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 indulged with having her grandson with her, but was likewise indulged with my being permitted to go to Eton school with two sons of the noble lord. I remained at Eton school some time, and even there began to show an early inclination to vice, without an opportunity 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 several choice acquaintances, particularly two (since hanged,) 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 wickedness 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 follow 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 wanting. 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 Woodford, 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 Cambridge coach, from the passengers of which I took about five pounds, and came on for London. I now began to frequent a noted gaming-house in Covent 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 surprising eclat. It was at this time I gained the name of ‘Gentleman Harry,’ for though I was before only called plain Harry, yet, on this my sudden grand appearance, 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 hardened 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.
“About a month after this, I robbed a lady on Blackheath, 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 off 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 retreated 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 I took from him eight guineas and seventeen shillings in silver, and, mounting the horse, left him to pursue his journey on foot. I sold the horse the next day at the George, in 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 I 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, I 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 robbed 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 order of the court of justice, confined in Clerkenwell Bridewell two months for an assault, at the end of which time I was set at liberty, giving sureties for my good behavior for two years. It was not long after I 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 inclination; 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, notwithstanding 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 implements, but lent me seven guineas to bear my expenses 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 seventeen 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, the 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 committed to Newgate, tried at the Old Bailey, and acquitted 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 sponging-house. Being determined to relieve her, if possible, 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 immediately went to a friend of mine in Leather-lane, 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 being hungry, I got some toast and ale, and therewith a knife, with which I hoped once more to make a breach whereby to escape. But I was doomed to be disappointed; 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 desperate, 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 robbery I was actually concerned in, though not with 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 514l. and a 20l. bank note, and carried off in bags goods to the value of 800l. 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 Ireland 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 Westminster, 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 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 majesty’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 endeavored to persuade me to go a privateering with them in the Warner galley; but I refused, and leaving Falmouth 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 procured 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, I 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 I was not long without a horse, for one Saturday night, about eight o’clock, coming from St. James’, where I had been regaling with some friends, I perceived a boy in Rider street walking a horse about, apparently waiting for somebody. I 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 having 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 prosecutor, 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 15l. in silver. I felt in their pockets for watches, but they had none. Next I met three men, whom I ordered ‘to stop;’ 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 let 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 shillings. 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 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. ‘I 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 I cried out, ‘You rascal, come to the door, and I’ll piece you;’ and if he had come I should certainly have killed him, but he thought better of it, and I rode away.
“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, at Stratford: 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 within sight of the Spread Eagle, at the door of which several 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 me, I thought it most prudent to ride through the turnpike, 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 I 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 handsome 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, I soon grew warm, and after dinner, 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 replied, 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 imprecations 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, attacked 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 beginning to fail, I made him dismount and change with me. He had a portmanteau on his horse, which he 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 industrious 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 be the Warrington stage, I directly made up to it, and got from the passengers 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 neckcloth. 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 troopers, 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 to me. Presently, I got up and sat by the fire-side, a good deal chagrined at my unfortunate fate. I resolved in my mind a thousand 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 prey 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 endeavoring 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 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 Gentleman 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 Covent Garden.