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 mouth, 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, scattering 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 certainly 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 my master for a token sent
from the country, and for 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 extracted 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 surrender to him his booty.
Having changed his clothes, Will went into the market, 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 some other
respectable persons, to attest his character. Will knew this person
well, and hastened to the Exchange, in full hopes of meeting him.
Having reconnoitred the gentleman, and followed him until he perceived
an opportunity, 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;”
adding, with a shrug of the shoulders, “Sir, they’ll steal our small
guts to make fiddle-strings of them.”
The gentleman, having recruited his purse, went on 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, that he
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 condition
that he would inform him by what means he had done so. “This,” said
he, “I promise upon my honor.” “Your word of honor,” said Will, “is
sufficient; 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’ll 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 amusement. “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? 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.”
As Roger began to heave and to bully, his master commanded 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’ll wager a guinea I’ll
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 gentleman that it swarmed with vermin. The gentleman
observing them, and loathing the sight, said, “Good boy, take them
off, and I’ll 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’ll 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 seconded by Roger. “Come, now,” said Will, “this matter must not
be entrusted to a boy; you will give 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 bustling 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 fellows 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’ll 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 gentleman present, the nobleman gave Will his coat
to carry to the tailor, who, coming down stairs, informed the landlord
of the disaster, received his cloak, and, putting 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; 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 calling
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 master 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 beaver; and, for aught I know, though you
look like gentlemen, 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, enraged at his insolent language; but
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 raised; 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 landlord
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 cessation 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
restored 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 occasioned 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 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 suspicions to
the constable, who secured the horses, and went in search of the men.
He was not long in seizing one of them, who confessed; and the
constable, hastening to the inn, secured 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 Newgate, 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 ceremonies of
religion being performed, they were launched into another world on the
twenty-second of February, 1681, 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 bodies,
and never spoke more, and was buried at the same time and in the same
grave with his two sons.
WILLIAM NEVISON.
The advancement of the arts and sciences is not 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 Yorkshire, about the year 1639,
and his parents, being in good 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 of his future character, and
the ruling motive of all his actions, were exhibited at that period.
He commenced his depredations by stealing a silver spoon from his own
father. The too indulgent parent, instead of chastising 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 schoolmaster 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 bridle 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. 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 evening,
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 changing 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 committed to prison. Thus
detected, Nevison would certainly 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 acquired some money; but his restless temper and disposition to
acquire riches, by whatever means, did not permit him to remain in a
situation of industry or sobriety. He deserted, went over to England,
with his money purchased a horse, together with all other necessaries,
and commenced his depredations in a systematic 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 up towards him, informed him that it was very
dangerous 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. Nevison 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’ll 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?” “So
mad,” replied Nevison, “that your 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 deliver 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 horse 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
surrender, 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 fired
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 all 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 prisoner, giving them their
whole forty pounds, with a caution 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 to ride after his
friends to acquaint them with his misfortunes, while he himself rode
all night, that he might have the money drawn before advice could be
forwarded to stop the payment.
After several adventures of a similar nature, Nevison one day robbed a
rich grazier of 450_l._ and then proposed to himself to retire with the
spoil. Accordingly, he returned home, and, like the prodigal son, was
joyfully 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.