given so many blows for so little; 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 sparkled, 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 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 forward, 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
his 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 supposed 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 seven years; and now,
the time being expired, I resume my proper shape again, and am at my
own disposal. However, sir, I 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 relation, 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.
Stephen 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 his 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 buy you again.”
Bunce was married to a victualler’s daughter in Plymouth, 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 attendants of the acquisition of money by unlawful
means. In the progress of time his manners became so abandoned 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.
JACK OVET.
Jack Ovet was born at Nottingham, and, after serving an apprenticeship
to a shoemaker, for some time gained his bread by that industrious and
useful employment: 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 gentleman 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 unawares, 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 money,
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.
[Illustration: _Jack Ovet._ P. 164.]
Another time, Jack Ovet, drinking at the Star inn, in the Strand,
overheard a soap-boiler contriving with 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 command. 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 precious.” 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
commodity in your wagon? I’ll fling it away.” So throwing 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 rascal,
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’ll 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 owner that I
will be answerable for it if he will come to me.” “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 I 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 conquest 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 suffer 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
in the attempt, he was closely pursued by the county, apprehended,
and sent to gaol; and at the next Leicester assizes condemned. Whilst
under sentence of death, he seemed to feel no remorse at all for his
wickedness, 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 justly hanged, in the thirty-second year of
his age.
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 highway, 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 delivered 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
pretty pounce; pray give hur another pounce for hur money!” Tom fired
another shot through his coat. “By St. Davy, this is a better pounce
than the other! pray give hur one pounce more!” “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 reluctantly but quietly
returned the money, and was thankful that he was allowed to depart.
But this narrow escape did not deter Dorbel, and he continued his
villanies for the space of five years. It happened, however, that a
gentleman’s son was taken for robbing on the highway, and as he had
been formerly 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
immediately 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, “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, I 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 prison, had scarcely any
part of the five hundred pounds remaining when he obtained his liberty;
therefore, endeavoring 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
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, however,
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 sixteen years of age,
prevailed upon her father to allow her to come to London to perfect
her education. Dorbel 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 breathed her
last. The disconsolate father soon after lost his senses.
Dorbel was pursued in different directions, and apprehended just after
he had robbed a gentleman of three pounds five shillings. He was tried,
and condemned 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.
DICK ADAMS.
The parents of this worthless fellow lived in Gloucestershire, 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 instantly 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 back 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 hundred 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 taken; but
instantly seeing the bishop of London coming 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’ll be so civil as not to raise any hubbub of a mob about me, by
which I should be exposed and utterly undone: I’ll go speak to his
lordship about the matter, if you please to step with me; and I’ll
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
lordship. 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
gentleman standing behind me is an eminent mercer, keeping 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
intricate cases, which very much trouble him, and his conscience 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 troubled 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 yourself.” 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 trouble of coming
to my house at Fulham, I will satisfy you in every point.” The mercer
made many grateful 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 appointed. 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 containing 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 gentleman in my life before!”
Dick not long after went into the life-guards, but as his pay would
not support his extravagance, he sometimes collected upon the highway.
Along with some of his companions upon the road, they robbed a
gentleman 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 exchanged 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 compassion on our sex? Certainly, you have
neither Christianity, 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 religion in me.” So falling next upon her
jewels and ear-rings, “Indeed, madam,” exclaimed Adams, “supposing 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, tried,
condemned, and executed, in March 1713. Though rude and profligate
before, he was penitent and devout after receiving his sentence.
WILLIAM GETTINGS.
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 capacity 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.
[Illustration: _William Gettings robs a Gentleman in his own Garden._
P. 176.]