William Page, who for twelve years carried on a flourishing practice in the "Stand and Deliver!" profession, was one of those few who lived very near the top of it. His name is not so familiar as those of Du Vall, Hind, Maclean, or Turpin, but not always do the really eminent come down to us with their eminence properly acknowledged. He was born about 1730, the son of a bargeman to a coal merchant at Hampton-on-Thames. The bargeman was unfortunately drowned at Putney in 1740, and his widow was reduced to eking out a meagre livelihood by the distilling of waters from medicinal herbs. She is described as "a notable industrious woman," and certainly it was not from her example that William learned the haughty and offensive ways that would not permit him long to keep any of the numerous situations he took, after leaving the Charity School at Hampton, where he acquired what small education he had. He started life as tapster's boy at the "Bell" alehouse, in his native town, and thence changed to errand-boy in the employment of "Mr. Mackenzie," apothecary. Soon his youthful ambition took him to London, where he obtained a situation in the printing-office of Woodfall, in Little Britain, who became in after-years notorious as printer of the "Letters of Junius"; but "that business being too great a confinement for his rambling temper, he left it, and went footboy to Mr. Dalrymple, Scots Holland warehouse in London."
He rapidly filled the situations of footman to one Mr. Hodges, in Lincoln's Inn Fields; porter to a gentleman in Cork Street, and footman to Mr. Macartney in Argyle Buildings. He then entered the service of the Earl of Glencairn, but left that situation to become valet to a certain Captain Jasper. Frequently discharged for "his proud and haughty spirit, which would not brook orders from his masters," and prevented him, on the other hand, being on good terms with his fellow-servants, he at last found himself unable to obtain another place. This was a sad time for William Page. In service he had learned extravagant habits, the love of fine clothes and the fascination of gambling; but his arrogant ways had brought him low indeed.
"Being by such means as these extremely reduced in his circumstances, without money, without friends, and without character, he could think of no better method of supplying his wants, and freeing himself from a servile dependency, than by turning Collector on the Highway. This he imagined would not only take off that badge of slavery, the livery he had always worn with regret, but would set him on a level with gentlemen, a figure he was ever ambitious of making."
His first steps were attended with some difficulty, for he laboured under the disadvantage, at the moment of coming to this decision, of having no money in his pockets; and to commence highwayman, as to begin any other business or profession, it was necessary to have a small capital, for preliminary expenses. But a little ingenuity showed him the way. Pistols and a horse were the tools of his trade, and pistols, of course, first. A servant of his acquaintance knew a person who had a brace of pistols to sell, and Page took them, "to show a friend on approval." He then hired a horse for deferred payment, and with the pistols went out and immediately and successfully robbed the Highgate coach. Thus, with the £4 he in this manner obtained, he paid for the pistols and settled with the livery-stable keeper for his horse-hire. In another day or two he had touched the wayfaring public for a sum sufficient to purchase a horse of his own; and thus commenced his twelve-years' spell of highway adventure, in which, although he had many exciting experiences, he was arrested only once before the final escapade that brought him to the gallows.
An early freak of his was the robbing of his former master, Captain Jasper, on Hounslow Heath. The Captain was crossing the ill-omened place with a lady in a post-chaise, when Page rode up, bade the postilion stop, and ordered the Captain to deliver.
"That may be, sir," retorted the Captain angrily, "but not yet," and, pulling out a pistol, fired at him. His aim was not good, but he hit somebody: none other, indeed, than his own postilion, who was struck in the back, "and wounded very much."
Then said Page, "Consider, sir, what a rash action you have been guilty of. You have killed this poor fellow, which I would not have done for the world. And now, sir, I repeat my orders, and if you refuse any longer to comply, I will actually fire upon you."
WILLIAM PAGE.