[86] Passed by a Parliament held at Gloucester in 1278 and
dealing with actions at law.
The Life of JOHN DYER, a most notorious thief, highwayman and
housebreaker
My readers cannot but remember the mention often made of this criminal,
in the former volumes. He was, at the time of his death, one of the
oldest offenders in England, and as he was at some pains to digest his
own story that is, the series of his villainies into writing, so what we
take from thence, will at once be authentic and entertaining to our
readers.
He was born of honest and mean parents at Salisbury, who took care,
however, to bestow on him a very tolerable education, and when he grew
up, put him out apprentice to a shoemaker, where he soon made a
beginning in those pernicious practices to which he so assiduously
afterwards addicted himself. The first thing he did, was robbing a
chandler's chop at Collinburn, in the county of Wilts, of the money box,
in which was thirty shillings, and got clear off. Some time after, his
master sending him on a Sunday to a village just by, to get twelve
pennyworth of halfpence at a chandler's shop, Dyer finding nobody at
home, cut the bar of the window, got in thereat, and rifled the house.
The booty he found did not amount to above three half-crowns, but he
added to that the taking away what currants and raisins there were in
the shop, which piece of covetousness had well-nigh cost him his life,
for being suspected and charged with the fact, he had only time to hide
the money. Having searched him in vain, they turned some of the plums
out of his coat pocket, but he readily averring that he bought them at
Andover Market, there being nobody who could falsify it, he escaped for
that time.
His matter shortly after sending him with five pounds to buy leather,
Dyer picking up a companion, as wicked as himself, he persuaded him to
join in a story of his being robbed of the aforesaid sum of money,
which, upon his return, he told his master, and the boy vouching it
firmly, they were believed. Some small space from this, being sent
amongst his master's customers to receive some money, he picked up about
three pounds, and then went off immediately for Salisbury, where he
became acquainted with an idle young woman; which bringing him once more
into necessity, he went one day into the market to see what he might be
able to lay hands on. There he observed a young woman to receive money,
and watching her out of town, he took an opportunity to knock her down,
robbing her, and dragging her into a wood, where he lay with her, and
then bound her fast to a tree.
From thence he went to a village in Hampshire, where he wrought
journey-work at his trade; and getting acquainted with a young woman, he
lodged at her mother's house, where he soon got the daughter with child,
and persuaded her to rob the old woman, and go with him to Bristol.
There they lived together profusely until all the money was spent, and
then she and her child went back to her mother, who received them very
gladly. Dyer did not think fit to return, but went to make his mother a
visit at Salisbury, where he continued not long before he took an
opportunity of robbing her of fifty pounds, and thence marched off to
Bristol, where he gamed most of the money away. Then he retired to a
town in Wiltshire, where cohabiting with a widow women, they found means
to get so good credit as to take the town in (as Mr. Dyer expressed it)
for thirty pounds. Then packing up they marched off to a place at a
considerable distance, where Dyer entered into partnership with a
collier, being to advance fifty pounds, thirty of which he paid down and
the rest was to pay monthly; but before the first payment became due the
collier broke, and his partner, Dyer, thereupon thought it convenient to
remove to some other place.
He pitched, therefore, upon the city of Hereford, where he worked
honestly for a space, until being in company one night with a higgler,
he heard the man say he should go to a place called Ross to buy fowls.
Dyer answered that he did not care if he went with him, and in their
journey, taking the advantage of a proper place he stopped his companion
and robbed him. The man gave him two shillings out of his pocket, but
Dyer suspecting he must have some more money to buy fowls with,
searched the hampers and took out twelve pounds. Taking the man's horse
also, he rode it forty miles outright, after which he went to
Marlborough in Wiltshire, and stayed there a fortnight. But venturing to
steal a silver mug, he was for that fact apprehended and committed close
prisoner there, in order to be tried for it next assizes, but before
that time, he found a weak place in the prison, and breaking it made his
escape.
From thence he went to an aunt's house, about seven or eight miles from
Salisbury, where he stayed until her husband grew so uneasy that he was
obliged to take his leave. He travelled then to a sister of his, and
meeting there with an old schoolfellow and relation, he quickly
persuaded the lad to become as bad as himself, drawing him in to rob his
mother of fifty shillings, with which small stock they two were set up
for their old trade of gaming. But the robbery they had committed was
quickly detected. However, Dyer so well tutored his associate that the
boy could neither by threats nor promises be brought to own it, yet
their denials had not the least weight with their relations. They were
thoroughly convinced of their being guilty, and therefore were
determined that they should be punished, for which purpose they carried
them before a neighbouring Justice of Peace, who committed them to
Bridewell to hard labour.
As Dyer could not endure imprisonment, especially when hard labour was
added to it, so he very speedily contrived a method to free himself and
his companion from their fetters, which was by leaping down the house of
office,[87] which a few days afterwards they did and got clear off.
These various difficulties and narrow escapes seemed to make no other
impression upon Dyer than to give him a greater liking than ever to such
sort of villainous enterprises. He stole as many horses out of New
Forest as came to three-score pounds, and afterwards setting up for a
highwayman, committed a multitude of facts in that neighbourhood, which
he has with great care related in the account he published of his life.
Amongst the rest he stripped a poor maid-servant, who was just come out
of a place, of all the money she had, viz., a gold ring, and a box of
clothes, and so left her without either necessaries or money. At
Winchester he disposed of the clothes and linen which he took from the
poor woman. At an alehouse in High Street he fell into company with a
lace-man, from whom he learned, by some little conversation, that he was
going to Amesbury Fair in Wiltshire. Dyer told him he was going thither
too, and so along they journeyed together. When they arrived there, they
put up their horses at the sign of the Chopping Knife, and while the
lace-man went out to take a stand to sell his goods in, Dyer demanded
the box of lace of the landlord, as if he had been the man's partner;
then calling for his horse, while the landlord's back was turned, he
rode clear off from them all.
On the Plain, going towards Devizes, he overtook a Scotch pedlar. Dyer
it seems knew him, and called him by his name, asking him if he had any
good handkerchiefs, upon which the poor man let down the pack off his
back and showed him several. Dyer told him, after looking over the
goods, that he did not want to buy anything, but must have what he
pleased for nothing. The Scotchman, upon that, put himself in a posture
of defence, but Dyer drawing his pistols on him soon obliged him to
yield, and tied him with some of his own cloth fast to the post of a
wall. He then went and rifled the pack, taking thence nine pounds odd in
money, a great parcel of hair, which he sold afterwards for eight
pounds, six dozen handkerchiefs, and a quantity of muslin. Then he
released the pedlar again, and bid him go and take care of the rest of
his pack, Mr. Dyer being then in some hurry to look out for another
booty.
A very small time after our plunderer met with an old shepherd, who had
sold a good parcel of sheep. Dyer attacked him with his hanger and the
old man, though he had nothing but his stick, made a very good defence.
However, at last he was overcome and lost seventy-two pounds which he
had taken at the market. Dyer being by this time full of money, he
thought fit to go to Dorchester in Wilts, where by the usual course of
his extravagances, he lessened it in a very short time; and then
persuading a poor butcher of the town, who had broke, to become his
companion, he soon taught him from being unfortunate to become wicked.
They agreed very well together (as Mr. Dyer says) until he caught his
new partner endeavouring to cheat him as well as he had taught him to
rob other people. But after some hard words the butcher confessed the
fact, and and promised to be honest to him for the future; which being
all that Dyer wanted, a new agreement was made, and they went to work
again in their old occupation.
The first exploit they went upon afterwards was at Woodbury Hill Fair,
in Dorsetshire, where as soon as the fair was over, Mr. Dyer, in his
merry style, tells us their fair began, for observing a cheeseman who
received about fourscore pounds, they watched him so narrowly that about
a mile from the fair they attacked him and bid him deliver. With a heavy
heart the old man suffered himself to be rifled, though he had paid away
a far greater part of the money, and had not above twelve pounds about
him, yet he sighed as if he would have broken his heart at the loss,
while Dyer and his companion were as much out of humour at the
disappointment and gave him several smart lashes with their whips,
telling him that he should never pay money when gentlemen waited to
receive it.
A small time after this robbery they committed another upon a
hop-merchant, who was riding with his wife. They searched him very
carefully for money, but could find none, until Dyer beginning to curse
and swear and threatening to kill him, his wife cried out, _For Heaven's
sake, do not murder my husband and I'll tell you where his money is._
Accordingly, she declared it was in his boots, upon which Dyer cut them
off his legs and found fifty guineas therein, then taking their leave of
the merchant and his wife, Dyer very gratefully thanked her for her good
office. From thence they went down to Sherbourne, and each of them
having got a mistress, they lived there very merrily for a considerable
space, living in full enjoyment of those gross sensualities in which
they alone reaped satisfaction at the expense of such honest people as
they had before plundered.
Here they had intelligence of a certain grazier who was going down into
the country to buy lean beasts, upon which they followed him and robbed
him of all the money he had, which was about fourscore-and-ten pounds.
So large a sum proved only a fund for extravagance, a use to which these
men put all the money they laid their hands on. Hampshire being so lucky
a place, Dyer and his comrade went next to Ringwood, where the butcher
fell sick, and lay for some time, until their money was almost consumed.
But then growing well again, Dyer took him down to Bath, where they
robbed the stage-coaches from Bath to London, and as they returned from
London to Bath again, until the road became so dangerous that they hired
persons to guard them for the future; and notwithstanding they so often
practised this villainy, they never were in danger but once, when a
gentleman fired a blunderbuss at them but missed them both, whereupon
they robbed the coach, and afterwards whipped him severely with their
horse whips.
Their next expedition was to Hungerford, where they stayed about two
months, in which time Dyer made a match for the butcher with a widow
woman of his own trade; but just as they were going to be married,
somebody discovered both his and the butcher's occupation, and thereupon
obliged them to quit Hungerford, and to take their road to Newbury, with
more precipitation than they were wont to do. In the road to Reading
they robbed a tallow-chandler, and then galloped to Reading, where they
had like to have been taken by the information of the Bath coachman;
but they being pretty well mounted and riding hard night and day got
safe down to Exeter in Devonshire, where, as the securest method, they
agreed to part by consent. The butcher went back to Devonshire again,
and Dyer must needs go to visit his friends at Salisbury, and then after
a short stay with them set out for London.
The fear he was under of being discovered if he came into the direct
road made him take a roundabout way in his journey, and thereby put it
in his power to rob four Oxford scholars; from two of them he took their
watches and their money, but though he searched the other two very
diligently could find nothing, upon which he rode away with the booty he
had taken. But the two whom he had robbed quickly called him back again,
and told him their companions had money, if he had but wit enough to
find it. Whereupon Dyer began to examine the first very strictly, and
found his money put under his buttons, and his watch thrust into his
breeches. On search of the second, he discovered his money put up in the
cape of his coat, but his watch he had hustled to one of his companions,
who held it out, which as soon as Dyer saw he took it away. It is
surprising that men should be possessed with so odd a spirit that
because they have lost all themselves, they must needs have others
plundered into the bargain. However, Dyer thought it a good job, and
with the help of this money he came up to London.
When he arrived here, he worked honestly for some time at his trade,
with a very noted shoemaker upon Ludgate Hill. Soon after, he removed to
a lodging in Leather Lane, and worked there for twelve months. At last
he got into the company of a common woman of the town, and she very
quickly brought him into his old condition, for being much in debt and
often arrested, Dyer, who was at present very fond of her, was obliged
to bail her or get her bailed. Hearing that he had a legacy of ten
pounds a year in an Exchequer Annuity, she would never let him alone
until he had disposed of it, which at last he did, for about fourscore
pounds. The first thing that was done after the receipt of the sum of
money was to clothe madam in Monmouth Street, in an handsome suit of
blue flowered satin, with everything agreeable thereto. On their return
home the man of the house where they lodged flew into a great passion,
said he'd never suffer her to wear such fine clothes unless he was paid
what was due to him. Mr. Dyer in his memoirs gives us this story,
dressed out with abundance of oaths and such like decoration, which we
will venture to leave out, and relate the adventure, as it gives a very
good idea of such sort of houses, otherwise in his own language.
The bawd, while her husband was swearing, took Mr. Dyer upstairs, and
there with a wheedling tone asked him if Moll should not bring them a
quartern of brandy to drink his and his spouse's health, but before Dyer
could give her an answer, she issued a positive command herself,
whereupon up comes Moll and the quartern. The mistress poured out half
of it into one glass which she drank off to the health of Mr. and Mrs.
Dyer, adding with great complaisance. _Well, indeed your Alice is a fine
woman when she's dressed. I love to see a handsome woman with all my
heart. Come, Moll, fill t'other quartern, and bid Mrs. Dyer come to her
spouse; and d'ye hear, tell my husband that Mrs. Dyer desires to drink a
glass of brandy with him._
On this message up comes the husband, and clapping down by him took him
by the hand, with an abundance of seeming courtesy, said, _Pray, Mr.
Dyer, don't let you and I fall out. I may, in my passion, have let fall
some provoking words to your wife, but I can't help it, 'tis my way, and
I really want money so that it almost makes me mad. I'll tell you what;
your spouse, Mr. Dyer, owes me almost nine pounds, now if you'll give me
five guineas, I'll give you a receipt in full._ Upon which our cully of
a robber, thinking to save so much money, paid it him down, and madam
seemed to be highly pleased.
As soon as this was over and the receipt given, his lady said to Dyer,
_Come my dear, we'll go and take a walk and see Mrs. Sheldon._ Thither
they went. No sooner were they in the house, but after the first
compliments were passed, Mrs. Sheldon said, _We were just talking of you
when you came in, Mr. Dyer, and of that small matter your spouse owes
us._ Says Dyer, _How much is it?_ But two-and-forty shillings, says Mrs.
Sheldon. Upon which the fool took the money out of his pocket and paid
it. A little while after this, Dyer's mistress thought fit to quarrel
with one of her female acquaintances whom she had made her confidante,
by which means the story came out that she was not a penny in debt
either to her landlord or Mrs. Sheldon, but that she wanted money and
was resolved to make hay while the sun shone.
One would have thought that a fellow so versed in villainy, and so given
up to all sorts of debauchery, would have immediately discarded a woman
who showed him such tricks, but on the contrary he grew fonder of her,
removed her to another lodging, and lavished all he had on her. But as a
new misfortune, one morning early a man knocked at the door, which he
taking to be one of her gallants, went in his shirt to the window. The
man enquired whether one Mrs. Davis was there, upon which Dyer's
mistress in a great agony, said. _O, la, John, it's my husband come from
sea, what shall I do?_ Upon this, Dyer hustled on his clothes and went
downstairs to another harlot, and by there until his first lady and her
husband came downstairs.
However, it was not long before the seaman had an account of Dyer's
familiarity with his wife, and thereupon thinking to get money out of
him brought his action against him; but Dyer got himself bailed, and
soon after arrested him for meat, drink and lodging for his wife for
several months, for which he lay in the Compter for a considerable time,
and at last was obliged to give Dyer ten pounds to make it up.
At last, when money ran low, Dyer's love on a sudden went all out. He
dismissed his mistress and not finding another quickly to his mind, took
up a sudden resolution to marry and live honest. It was not long before
he prevailed on an honest woman, and accordingly they were joined
together in wedlock. Dyer thereupon provided himself with a cobbler's
stall in Leather Lane, worked hard and lived well. But as his
inclinations were always dishonest, he could not long confine himself to
honesty and labour, but in a short space meeting with a young man in the
neighbourhood, who was very uneasy in his circumstances, and on ill
terms with ms friends, and very much disordered in his mind on account
of the misfortunes under which he laboured, Dyer began immediately to
cast eyes upon him as one who would make him a fit companion.
It seems the other had exactly the same thoughts, and one day as they
were walking together in the fields, says the stranger to him, _I'll
tell you what; if you knew how affairs stand with me, you would advise
me. I must either go upon the highway, or into gaol. That's a hard
choice_, replied Dyer; _but did you ever do anything of that kind? No_,
said the other, _indeed, not hitherto. Well, then_, says his tutor
again, _have you any pistols? No_, replied he, _but I intend to pawn my
watch and buy some._ The bargain was soon made between them. One night
they robbed a man by the Old Spa,[88] the same night they robbed another
by Sadler's Wells. Two or three days after, they robbed a chariot, and
took from persons in it thirty pounds. The young practitioner in
thieving thought this a rare quick way of getting money and therefore
followed it very industriously in the company of his assistant. In
Lincoln's Inn Fields they were hard put to it, for after they had
committed a robbery, abundance of watchmen gathered about them, whom
they suffered to advance very near them, but then firing two or three
pistols over their heads they all ran, and suffered the robbers to go
which way they would. A multitude of other facts they committed, until
Dyer got into that gang who robbed on Blackheath, of whom we have given
some account.
It is observable that Dyer, in his own narrative, gives not the least
account of his turning evidence and hanging a great number of his
associates, many of whom, as has been said in the former volume,[89]
charged him with having first drawn them into the commission of crimes
and then betrayed them. It seems this was among the circumstances of his
life which did not afford him any mirth, a thing to which throughout the
course of his memoirs he is egregiously addicted. However it was, I must
inform my reader that he remained for near seven years a prisoner in
Newgate after his being an evidence, until at last he found means to get
discharged at the same time with one Abraham Dumbleton, who was his
companion in his future exploits, and suffered with him at the same
time. When they were at the bar, in order to their being discharged out
of Newgate, the Recorder, with his usual humanity, represented to them
the danger there was of their coming to a bad end, in case they should
be set at liberty and get again into the company of their old comrades
who might seduce them to their former practices, and thereby become the
means of their suffering a violent and ignominious death; advising them
at the same time rather to submit to a voluntary transportation, whereby
they would gain a passage into a new country, inhabited by Englishmen,
where they might live honestly without dread of those reproaches to
which they would be ever liable here. But they insisting upon their
discharge and promising to live very honestly for the future, their
request was complied with, and they were set at liberty.
One of the first crimes committed by Dyer afterwards was robbing a
victualler coming over Bloomsbury Market,[90] between one and two
o'clock in the morning, and from whom, having thrown him down and
stopped his mouth, they took his silver watch, seventeen shillings in
money, two plain rings, and the buckles out of his shoes. They robbed
another man in the Tottenham Court Road coming to town, tied him and
then took from him two-and-forty shillings. Dyer also happening to be
one day a little cleaner and better dressed than ordinary, was taken
notice of in Lincoln's Inn Fields by one of those abominable, unnatural
wretches who addict themselves to sodomy. He pretended to know him at
first, and desired him to step to the tavern with him and drink a glass
of wine, which the other readily complied with. In the tavern, Dyer took
notice that the gentleman had a good diamond ring upon his finger, and
then suddenly taking notice of a hackney-coach which drove by with a
single gentleman in it, he pretended it was a friend of his and that he
needs must go down and speak a word with him. Under pretence of doing
which, he went clear off with the diamond ring. Two or three days after,
he met the same person with a man in years, and of some consideration.
Upon his asking Dyer how he came to go off in that manner from the
tavern, he, who was accustomed to such salutations, gave him a rough
answer, and the spark fearing a worse accusation might be alleged
against himself, thought fit to go off without making any more words
about it.
I am not able to say how long after, but certainly it could be no very
considerable space before he and Dumbleton robbed Mr. Bradley, in Kirby
Street, by Hatton Garden, of his hat and wig, at the same time trampling
on him, beating him, and using him in the most cruel manner imaginable,
as was sworn by Mr. Bradley upon their trial. However, by affrighting
the watch with their pistols, they got off safe and a night or two after
broke open a linen-draper's shop, and took out a large parcel of linen.
For these two facts they were shortly after apprehended, and on very
full evidence convicted at the Old Bailey.
Under sentence of death, Dyer said he was sorry for his offences, but
spoke of them in a manner that showed he had but a slight sense of those
heinous crimes in which he had continued so long. His narrative that he
left behind him, and which was published the day before his execution,
is a manifest proof of the ludicrous terms which those unhappy creatures
affect in the relation of their own adventures. However, it becomes us
not to judge concerning the sentiments of a person who in his last
moments professed himself a penitent. Instead of doing which, we shall
produce the speech he made at the place of execution.
Good People,
I desire all young men to take warning by my ignominious death, and
to forsake evil company, especially lewd women, who have been the
chief cause of my unhappy fate. I hope, and make it my earnest
request that nobody will be so ill a Christian as to reflect on my
aged parents, who took an early care to instruct me, and brought me
up a member, though a very unworthy one, of the Church of England. I
hope my misfortunes will be a warning to all youth, especially some
whom I wish well; I will not name them, but hope, if they see this,
they will take it to themselves. I die in charity with all men,
forgiving and hoping to be forgiven myself, through the merits of my
blessed Saviour Jesus Christ.
He died on the 21st of November, 1729, being thirty-one years of age.