WILLIAM PARSONS
The so-called "gentleman criminal" has flourished in all ages and in
all climes, and there have been many remarkable scoundrels who have
utilized their social position to rob their fellows. One of the most
notorious was William Parsons, the son of a baronet, and the nephew
of a duchess, who was educated at Eton, served as an officer both in
the army and navy, and, after a career during which he experimented in
every kind of fraud, ended on the gallows.
Parsons began early in life to plunder and swindle, and his first
victim was his own brother. When the two boys set out for Eton each
possessed a five-guinea piece, given them by their aunt, the Duchess
of Northumberland, and when William had spent his he stole his
brother's. The theft was discovered, and the thief received such a
severe thrashing that he had to keep to his bed for a fortnight. It was
a punishment which would have convinced most persons that "the way of
transgressors is hard," but Parsons quickly forgot when the pain had
gone and began to thieve again. The head master of Eton received many
complaints from boys whose pockets had been picked. Gold and silver
watches and other jewellery disappeared as if by magic, and despite
the precautions taken to shadow Parsons the thefts continued. He was
thrashed again and again, but all to no effect, and, finally, it was
decided to remove him.
He had an uncle living at Epsom, named Captain Dutton, and to him he
was sent. There was no publicity about the "removal"--which was really
expulsion--for Sir William Parsons, the boy's father, was highly
esteemed, and everything was done to spare his feelings. Captain
Dutton received the young prodigal with much kindness, generously
ascribing his escapades at the great public school to a boy's natural
propensities for fun. "Boys will be boys," said the officer, and
prepared to give his headstrong nephew the run of his house.
It was understood in the family that Parsons was to inherit the estate
of his uncle, who was by no means a poor man. But Parsons was not one
to wait for dead men's shoes.
From the moment he arrived at Epsom he plunged into every kind of
vice. The gallant captain had an account at a jeweller's, and Parsons,
learning this, ordered an immense quantity of plate, which he disposed
of in London for a tenth of its value. If any money was left lying
about the house the young thief's fingers immediately closed round it.
In vain his uncle censured and forgave. Parsons was irreclaimable, and
eventually Captain Dutton kicked him into the street, and closed his
door against him for ever.
[Illustration: WILLIAM PARSONS]
A family conference was now held, and it came to the conclusion
that Parsons had better be sent to sea, and accordingly he took a
voyage in H.M.S. _Drake_ to the West Indies, holding the rank of a
midshipman. As he was so well related, he was given a good time by his
fellow-officers, and although there were rumours concerning him on
board he managed to return home with his name still on the books of the
ship, and without being in irons. This was, undoubtedly, a remarkable
accomplishment for him. But long before his return he had decided that
he did not care for the cramped life of a sailor. He wanted to live
in the very best style, and have his fling in the gayest circles in
London. He had already acquired a fondness for gambling, and on his
arrival in England from the West Indies he took all his savings to a
gambling hell in London, and in a few hours lost every penny.
He did not despair, for he was aware that there was an idea in his
family that he had reformed. His period of service in the navy had
convinced his relations that he had indeed turned over a new leaf.
The Duchess of Northumberland was staying at her London mansion, and
Parsons, utterly penniless, paid her a visit, hoping to induce his
good-natured aunt to come to his financial rescue. With apparent
contrition he apologized for the indiscretions of his youth, and swore
that he now found virtue more attractive than vice. It ended, of
course, in an appeal for funds, and the duchess handed him five hundred
pounds so that he might appear in society as befitted his relationship
to her. That night the five hundred pounds became nearly two thousand
as the result of the most daring gambling on Parsons' part. He took the
most reckless chances, and every time came out on top. He was naturally
wildly delighted. Here was the quickest and easiest road to fortune,
and he persuaded himself that in a few weeks he would be worth many
thousands of pounds. But the sequel was absurdly conventional. Parson
was cleaned out within a couple of days.
Each time he became "dead broke" he called on the Duchess of
Northumberland, but with each succeeding visit her presents of money
became uncomfortably less, and he had to supplement her grants in aid
by purloining various small articles of jewellery which he found on
her dressing-table. The duchess, however, possessed so much jewellery
that the thefts passed unnoticed until one evening, whilst chatting
confidentially with her in her boudoir, he slipped into his pocket
a miniature set in gold, which her Grace valued highly--so highly,
indeed, that when she discovered her loss she offered a reward of five
hundred pounds for its recovery. It was a purely sentimental valuation,
but it placed Parsons in a most awkward position. Five hundred pounds
would have been a godsend to him, and yet he dared not surrender the
miniature, for he was well aware that his aunt would never forgive the
theft, and, accordingly the young thief was compelled to sell it to a
jeweller of doubtful reputation, who gave him fifty pounds for it.
Having for the time being exhausted his resources in London, Parsons
was driven to the desperate expedient of going home. The family seat
was just outside the town of Nottingham, but he found it so dull that
he became a regular frequenter of the assembly rooms at Buxton. A few
minor thefts provided funds for a week, and the son of the well-known
Nottinghamshire baronet was received everywhere. No one thought of
suspecting him of being a thief, and when he stole a pair of shoes with
gold buckles, and disposed of the gold to a jeweller in Nottingham,
Sir William averted exposure when the gold buckles were traced to his
son by negotiating in private with the original owner. For the sake of
the heart-broken father the victim of the theft did not prosecute, and
young Parsons was bundled off to London, Sir William having no further
use for him.
Perhaps if Parsons had not been saved from punishment so often he
would not have adopted crime as a profession. But to a person of his
temperament the game must have appeared to be worth more than the
proverbial candle, because when he won he was paid, and when he lost
there was always a kind-hearted relative or friend to pay for him. He
was not at all embarrassed by his narrow escape at Nottingham. It was
only a minor episode in a career in which he had come unscathed out of
many tight corners.
On his return to London he happened to meet a lady some ten years older
than himself, but whose burden of years was eased by the possession of
a considerable fortune. She was not bad-looking, and being without near
relatives she was an easy victim to the unscrupulous fortune-hunter.
When Parsons was introduced to her as the son of Sir William Parsons,
and the nephew of the Duchess of Northumberland, the socially-ambitious
lady simply "threw herself at him."
She longed to shine in high society, and the moment Parsons understood
her weakness he played up to it for all he was worth. He promised to
introduce her to his aunt, and swore that her Grace would instantly
fall in love with her and chaperon her, for, of course, anyone who
entered the charmed portals of society vouched for by the Duchess of
Northumberland would encounter no difficulties in her way.
The lady accepted all his statements without demur, but she proved
somewhat coy whenever money was mentioned, and Parsons had to ask her
to marry him before she would consent to advance him a portion of her
fortune.
They became engaged in secret, Parsons pointing out that it must
be kept quiet until he had time to approach his aunt, the duchess,
diplomatically and break the news to her, for the lady was the daughter
of a man who had made his money in trade, and in those days that was
considered a bar to entry into society. She was satisfied with his
explanation, and she poured thousands of pounds into her "lover's"
keeping to hold in trust for her. At the same time he was making love
to a girl whom he had met at his aunt's house, and he actually bought
her presents with the money he had extracted from the too-confiding
lady who fondly imagined that she would soon be his wife.
When he had robbed her of every penny it was possible to obtain without
arousing the suspicions of her guardians, Parsons, realizing that it
would be better for his health and comfort to vanish from London for
some months, returned to the navy and secured an appointment on H.M.S.
_Romney_.
There were a gallant set of officers on board, not too well endowed
with this world's goods, but quite willing to hazard what they
possessed at the gaming-table. Well aware of this, Parsons, who deemed
it only proper to combine business with pleasure, took with him some
marked cards and loaded dice. Every evening the officers played, and
from the very beginning Parsons won. Cynically contemptuous of the
intelligence of his opponents, he did not condescend to the usual trick
of allowing them to win now and then. He simply took all he could get
until it became painfully obvious that the only man on board who never
lost was William Parsons, and it was generally agreed that there could
be only one reason for that.
The captain accordingly took Parsons aside and informed him that they
all had decided not to play with him in future. The scoundrel shrugged
his shoulders, but, of course, had to accept the decision, for the
captain was the autocrat of the ship. But worse was to follow, for
before the voyage was at an end the officers added to their first
decision another one which prevented anyone addressing Parsons except
when duty compelled.
The studied contempt of his brother-officers did not affect him. He had
long since lost all sense of decency, and his only anxiety was that
there might be unnecessary delay before he reached land again.
Once more he found himself in London, and determined never to enter
the navy again. The standard of honour at sea was too high for him,
and the blunt sailors had a way of expressing their opinions which was
decidedly uncomfortable.
He plunged again into the life of a gambler, but with all his
experience could not win except on those rare occasions when he was
able to persuade the company to play with the dice or cards he
produced. Whenever this occurred he swept the board, but he was by now
too well known, and it happened that it was only in the semi-public
gambling saloon where trickery was impossible that he was allowed to
play, because his fellow-gamblers knew that the dice could not be
loaded or the cards marked.
One night he lost five thousand pounds to an army officer, and as he
had only fifteen hundred pounds on him paid that amount on account. The
officer, who was somewhat the worse for drink, shortly afterwards left
the house, and Parsons followed him, robbed him of the money, returned,
and lost it again at cards. It was a favourite trick of his to rob
those he paid, and the astonishing thing about it all is that he was
never detected.
Gamblers were fond of drinking and few of them were sober by midnight.
Parsons, however, kept his wits about him, for he owed so much that
he could not afford to handicap himself as the others did. And yet
when he won a considerable sum he never had the sense to stop. On
three occasions his winnings exceeded two thousand pounds, and within
twenty-four hours he was penniless again.
Meanwhile he could live fairly comfortable on credit as it was known
that the Duchess of Northumberland had named him for a large sum in her
will, and it was expected that her Grace's decease would free him from
all his liabilities.
Now, Parsons had been disinherited once--by his uncle, Captain Dutton,
of Epsom--and that ought to have been a warning to him, but he never
learned even from his misfortunes, and he was destined to receive
nothing from his aunt.
It all came about owing to the sudden necessity for him to pay a visit
abroad. London was swarming with his creditors, and to avoid them he
went to Jamaica. But money was scarce there, too, and he found the
local traders had a not unnatural preference for cash when it came to
bargaining, and Parsons accordingly forged a letter, purporting to be
signed by his aunt, guaranteeing to be responsible for any sum up to
seventy pounds which her nephew might borrow.
When he had raised the sum mentioned, Parsons decamped, and some time
afterwards the duchess was rendered furious by a demand from the
Jamaican merchant for repayment. She disowned the forgery at once, and
cut Parsons' name out of her will. She had intended to bequeath him
twenty-five thousand pounds, and now she transferred the legacy to
his sister, well aware that her family would take every precaution to
prevent the "black sheep" touching any of it.
But the disinherited rascal was unperturbed, and it seemed that he had
checkmated misfortune when he met and married within a very short time
a young lady with a fortune in her own right of twelve thousand pounds,
with more to come.
The newly-married couple set up in a luxuriously-furnished house in
Poland Street, in the West End of London, and Parsons, anxious to
obtain a better standing in society, purchased a commission in a crack
regiment. He did not, however, lose his fondness for the gaming-tables,
and when his wife let him have four thousand pounds he gaily informed
her a fortnight afterwards that he was without a penny. She came to
the rescue by allowing him to mortgage her securities, which he did
thoroughly, actually raising money twice on the same documents.
Parsons had purchased a commission in the army without any intention
of ever doing any fighting, but greatly to his annoyance his regiment
was ordered to Flanders, where there was every chance of his making
the acquaintance of powder and shot. His family were delighted, hoping
that active service would "steady" him. But the seasoned criminal
disappointed them again, and in Flanders he perpetrated frauds
specially suited to the situation he found himself in.
When it was necessary to reclothe the whole of his regiment, Parsons
was fortunate enough to secure the contract, and on behalf of the
regiment he bought a great quantity of cloth. By some means he managed
to get it all to London, and there he disposed of it at about half the
rate he had bought it at, and in a few days had spent all the money in
riotous living.
This offence was, however, of too serious a nature to pass unnoticed,
and in due course it was reported to the Commander-in-Chief. The Duke
of Cumberland, who was then the head of the British Army, dismissed him
from the service and confiscated the sum of money he had paid for his
commission, ordering it to be devoted to replacing part of the losses
sustained by his innumerable frauds.
It is astonishing that more drastic measures were not adopted, but no
doubt the wealthy and powerful Northumberland family brought all their
influence to bear. Besides, Sir William Parsons, the thief's father,
was well known in Court circles, and it may have been that it was on
his account that the career of his son was not brought to a swift
conclusion at the hands of the common hangman.
Now that he was a cashiered officer he could no longer, of course,
associate with decent people. His companions from henceforth were
dishonest servants and professional criminals. The lowest class
gambling-houses began to know him well, and he was addressed
affectionately by individuals who would not have been tolerated by his
father's domestics.
Mrs. Parsons had not unnaturally returned home to her parents, who had
informed her husband that if he attempted to molest her they would
shoot him like a dog, and, as Parsons knew that there was no more
money to be had from her, he was only too glad to be saved the trouble
and expense of keeping her.
But he was not the man to live meanly, and he formed many plans, the
success of which would set him up again as a gentleman of means and
leisure. Every decent door was closed against him, and he had to depend
now wholly and solely on fraud to provide him with food and shelter.
Parsons took another house and furnished it entirely on credit. The
plate was massive and costly, and of such value that the goldsmith
who supplied it was the first of the tradesmen to get anxious about
the payment of his account. But when, shortly after delivering it, he
nervously called at the house in Panton Square, he was surprised to
find it uninhabited. There was no sign of life about it, and inquiries
confirmed his impression that the owner had gone away for a time. But
he could see that the furniture remained, and, therefore, he was not
greatly perturbed. The gentry were fond of going into the country, and
as Parsons had boasted of his estate in Nottinghamshire the goldsmith
returned to his shop satisfied that he would be paid one day.
Other creditors rang at the front door, and failed to gain admission,
and when their suspicions were aroused they kept a watch on the house,
but they never caught a glimpse of their debtor. Yet Parsons was
actually living there. He used to enter and leave by a small door in
the stable-yard, and he seldom went out unprovided with a piece of
plate or some other portable article which was destined to find its way
into a pawnbroker's shop.
The comedy was brought to a sudden termination by the impatience of the
landlord, who was desirous of seeing his rent. The law, which kept the
other creditors at bay, permitted him to force an entrance, but when
he did he discovered that he was too late. Parsons had disposed of the
furniture, leaving only the heavy curtains to act--in every sense of
the word--as a blind. The creditors never received a single penny.
By now Parsons had a friend, a certain man named Wilson, who had been
a footman until dishonesty led to his dismissal. Wilson had served for
some years in a family of position, and he had managed to pick up some
of their mannerisms, which he imagined justified him in thinking that
he could pose as a gentleman himself. He was tall and good-looking, and
could talk glibly of several well-known personages as though they were
personal friends, whereas the truth was that he had only waited on them.
In conjunction with this scoundrel, Parsons devised a scheme whereby he
would be able to recover some of the twenty-five thousand pounds which
he had lost by the forgery of his aunt's name. The money was now bound
to come to his sister, who was generally referred to as the "wealthy
Miss Parsons," and, as at the time we are speaking of marriage gave the
husband instant possession of his wife's fortune, Parsons suggested
that Wilson should carry off his sister, forcibly marry her, and then
pay over ten thousand pounds of his wife's fortune to him.
It was a pretty idea, and the ex-footman entered into it with
enthusiasm. He knew that Miss Parsons' entire fortune was considerably
more than twenty-five thousand pounds, and he would have paid double
William Parsons' commission if the latter had insisted on more generous
terms.
The preliminary plans were settled in an old public-house in the
Haymarket, not far from the lodgings occupied by the girl, who did not
suspect that her own brother wished to sell her to a debased ruffian.
Elopements were common enough in those days, and the forcible abduction
of an heiress was considered legitimate sport in certain circles.
William knew his sister's movements, and there seemed no reason to
fear failure when he bought over Miss Parsons' maid with a promise
to pay her five hundred pounds when the marriage had taken place. The
sum offered was an immense fortune to a lady's maid, and she eagerly
accepted the bribe.
All that remained now was to hire the coach and the swiftest horses,
arrange for the unscrupulous clergyman to be ready at an out-of-the-way
spot, and then to take the unsuspecting girl to her doom.
From first to last Parsons exhibited much cunning in this affair, and
had it not been for the carelessness of his confederate his plan might
have succeeded.
But Wilson lost his head when Parsons persuaded him to believe that
marriage to his wealthy sister was certain. The ex-footman could
not keep his mouth closed, and he drew attention to himself by his
extravagant purchases for the great event. He was buying half a dozen
expensive "ruffled shirts" in a West End shop one day when, in the
presence of several customers, he boasted of his forthcoming marriage
to "the great heiress, Miss Parsons."
The small audience stared when they heard this, and envied the
well-dressed "gentleman" his good fortune, but, unhappily for him,
just as he was speaking a lady had entered who knew him. She overheard
his reference to Miss Parsons, and she glanced at him with more than
ordinary interest. Great was her astonishment when she recognized her
ex-footman, Wilson, the man she had discharged for dishonesty.
Steps were instantly taken to acquaint Miss Parsons with the statements
Wilson was making about her, and she thought it prudent to change her
lodgings, and to hire an ex-pugilist to follow and protect her wherever
she went. But there was no danger from the moment Wilson had made that
very stupid and incautious remark for the conspirators got frightened
and separated, though not before Parsons had savagely attacked Wilson
for his indiscretion. The result of the attack was the disfigurement
of the footman's face for the rest of his life.
Although he was now always short of ready money, Parsons took good care
to see that his wardrobe was in first-rate condition. He never dressed
shabbily, always appearing as a man of fashion. London, however, was
not so remunerative as it had been: his character was too well known,
and the set he mixed in was too poor to be worth the robbing. He,
therefore, decided on a sort of provincial tour, and he went down to
Bath with the intention of finding a vain and silly girl with money,
who would be attracted by his appearance and his titled relations.
The baronet's son speedily found a victim in the daughter of a
well-to-do doctor. He represented himself to be a bachelor--of
course, the truth was that his wife was still alive--anxious to marry
and settle down in quiet luxury, as befitted his birth. The girl
readily responded to his honeyed words, and in her father's house the
engagement took place, and was approved of by the doctor, who had heard
of Sir William Parsons, Bart., of Nottingham.
Parsons began to borrow. In hundreds at first and then in thousands,
and very soon the girl's private fortune of three thousand pounds,
which she had inherited from her mother, had been lent to Parsons, and
lost by him in the gaming-houses.
Her father advanced more, and when he had drained the family dry
Parsons announced that he was called away to see his father to arrange
for his marriage, and he took his departure from Bath with the cordial
good wishes of the doctor and his daughter, who were destined neither
to see him nor their money again.
From Bath he went to Clifton. It was then a small village where a few
of the wealthy Bristol merchants had country-houses. He arrived in the
early summer, and speedily got an introduction to a rich shipowner who
had two daughters. Parsons discovered that the two girls were wildly
jealous of each other, and he thereupon made each one the object of
his attentions without letting either know that she had a rival. There
was plenty of money in the family, but on the first occasion Parsons
delicately hinted that a loan of two hundred pounds would be acceptable
the hard-headed old merchant only advised him to write to his father,
offering to bear the expense of the communication.
This was not what Parsons wanted, and he determined to use the girls
to extract the money from their father, whom he termed "the old
miser." Accordingly, he took the elder girl out for a walk, and boldly
explained that he was temporarily without means owing to a family
lawsuit, and he hinted that if she wished to marry him she must help to
relieve his pecuniary embarrassment. The girl promised to do her best,
and, confident that she would keep her promise not to divulge to her
father or sister what he had said, he met the younger girl, and put his
situation before her in similar terms.
A few days later he found that the two girls were actually vying with
one another as to which of them could find the most money for her
lover, unaware that they were both referring to the same individual.
By some extraordinary means they got over five thousand pounds for
him, and Parsons supplemented it with a forged order purporting to be
signed by the girl's father, ordering his manager to pay the bearer
a thousand pounds. Parsons presented the order in person, received
the money, packed his belongings, and the same night left for London.
When the fraud was discovered the old man was for instant exposure,
but on reflection, and persuaded by his daughters, he decided that
the disgrace and ridicule that would follow for them when Parsons
was arrested was too big a price to pay for revenge, and they never
published the story of their foolishness and gullibility.
But Parsons' end was approaching. His good fortune could not last for
ever, and he met his match in a country girl, who resented his advances
after she had found him with another woman and refused to act as his
accomplice in the passing of counterfeit banknotes. She denounced him
in a temper, and he was arrested. It was characteristic of the fellow
that when in prison awaiting trial he should rob a fellow-prisoner of
his small stock of cash.
For the offence of possessing imitation banknotes Parsons was
transported, but he managed to earn the good graces of the governor of
the colony whither he was sent, and he was back again in England within
two years, paying the expenses of his journey by an audacious robbery
at the expense of the official who had sheltered him in his house.
And now having tried nearly every variety and form of crime, and being
without funds, Parsons turned highwayman as a last desperate resource.
It was the most precarious of all professions, but there was ever the
temptation of netting a large sum of money. His first essay resulted
in a gain of about eighty pounds, and his second ten pounds less. The
money was not much use to Parsons, and he would have abandoned the
profession there and then had he not heard that a certain nobleman
intended to carry a thousand pounds from London to a house a few miles
to the north of Turnham Green.
Parsons resolved to waylay the coach and capture the money, but his
plans were upset by his own arrest, and after five months in prison at
Newgate he was executed on February 11th, 1750, the king rejecting a
petition presented to him by the prisoner's powerful and influential
relations.