Dick Turpin: A Fatal Letter

by Catherine Curzon

Georgian Britain was a place of splendour and Enlightenment, a world of glittering spectacle and dazzling celebrity where even a child from the humblest of starts could rise to the top. In a land where politics, press and even prostitution could be the ticket to fame and fortune, not everybody made their name honestly. One man whose notoriety has survived through the ages and morphed from notorious criminal to folk hero to Georgian legend is, of course, Dick Turpin, the infamous highway robber of 18th century England.

Romanticised, lauded and celebrated in art and fiction, the tale of Turpin is steeped in myth. He is one of the most famous criminals ever to emerge from British history, yet when he certainly didn’t go out in a blaze of glory.

And he didn’t come in in one either!

Richard Turpin was born in 1705 as the son of a farmer in Thackstead, deep in rural Essex. To all intents and purposes, his life was set to be an unremarkable one, yet young Dick had had plans of his. Apprenticed to a butcher in Whitechapel, this rowdy young man had no intention of being a nobody, and toiling hard as a butcher’s apprentice didn’t give him anything like the lifestyle he craved. what it did do was give him an introduction to the criminal world and when Turpin became a butcher in his own shop, he embarked on a life of crime.

Turpin began rustling cattle with which to stock his shop. Of course, he didn’t stop there and when he was discovered helping himself to a farmer’s stock, he was forced onto the run. Undaunted, Turpin was soon branching out into highway robbery and violent home invasion, yet this legend of Georgian crime’s reign of terror was undone by an eagle-eyed chap in the post office!

Thanks to his escapades, by the 1730s, Turpin and his gang were among the most wanted men in the land. Turpin’s name was feared by all and the government issued a proclamation warning the public about the villain in their midst.

"It having been represented to the King, that Richard Turpin did, on Wednesday, the 4th of May last, barbarously murder Thomas Morris, servant to Henry Thompson, one of the keepers of Epping Forest, and commit other notorious felonies and robberies, near London, his Majesty is pleased to promise his most gracious pardon to any of his accomplices, and a reward of 200 l. to any person or persons that shall discover him, so that he may be apprehended and convicted.

Turpin was born at Thackstead, in Essex, is about thirty, by trade a butcher, about five feet nine inches high, very much marked with the small-pox, his cheek-bones broad, his face thinner towards the bottom; his visage short, pretty upright, and broad about the shoulders."

In fact, when Turpin was arrested, the authorities had no idea who they had captured. Snared for horse stealing, he was interred at York under the pseudonym, John Palmer. Here Turpin languished until, after four months, he wrote the following letter to his brother-in-law, Pompr Rivernall, in Essex:

"Dear Brother,
York, Feb. 6, 1739.
I am sorry to acquaint you, that I am now under confinement in York Castle, for horse-stealing. If I could procure an evidence from London to give me a character, that would go a great way towards my being acquitted. I had not been long in this county before my being apprehended, so that it would pass off the readier. For Heaven's sake dear brother, do not neglect me; you will know what I mean, when I say,
I am yours,
JOHN PALMER."

In fact, Rivernall refused to pay the postage on the letter, supposedly because he has no idea who this John Palmer character might be. Of course, we might wonder whether he knew exactly who John Palmer was and, seeing the York postmark, determined to let his criminal brother-in-law stew. The letter was returned unopened in February 1739, where it happened to land in the post office in Saffron Walden.
It was here that a chap named James Smith happened to spot the letter as it waited to be returned to sender. In a twist of fate, however, Smith had been a classmate of Dick Turpin years earlier and, fatefully it was he who had taught the younger boy to read and write.

Nobody knew Dick Turpin’s handwriting like James Smith.

As he collected his own post, Smith happened to catch sight of the letter from so-called John Palmer, the man held captive at York Castle. He recognised the hand instantly as that of Dick Turpin, his former classmate. Turpin had become so notorious that Smith knew exactly what had become of him, and must have been surprised to see the letter bearing his handwriting. A man of upright standing and also a chap who wouldn’t say no to the generous bounties on Turpin’s head, Smith decided to do the right thing. He reported his concerns to local magistrate, Thomas Stubbing, and the game, as the saying goes, was up.

Smith's statement

The men travelled to York and on 23rd February 1739, James Smith identified the prisoner known as John Palmer as none other than Dick Turpin, sealing his grisly fate and setting him on the path to execution.

The eagle-eyed Smith, meanwhile, found himself a rich man as a result of his keen vision. He was awarded £200 for his efforts, a sum worth almost £30,000 today... all for the sake of an unwanted letter!

Turpin’s date with the hangman was set for 7th April 1739 and it was the hottest ticket in town. Before an enormous crowd he went to the gallows and, the authorities hoped, would soon be forgotten.

As history has told, the authorities could not have been more wrong and to this day the legend of Dick Turpin endures, but no doubt he rued the day he wrote that letter!

“The spectators of the execution were affected at his fate, as he was distinguished by the comeliness of his appearance. The corpse was brought to the Blue Boar, in Castle-Gate, York, where it remained till the next morning, when it was interred in the church- yard of St. George's parish, with an inscription on the coffin, with the initials of his name, and his age. The grave was dug remarkably deep, but notwithstanding the people who acted as mourners took such measures as they thought would secure the body: it was carried off about three o'clock on the following morning; the populace, however, got intimation whither it was conveyed, and found it in a garden belonging to one of the surgeons of the city.

Having got possession of it they laid it on a board, and carried it through the streets in a kind of triumphal manner, they then filled the coffin with unslacked lime, and buried it in the grave where it had been before deposited.”

References

Barlow, Derek. Dick Turpin and the Gregory Gang. Phillimore, 1973.
Bayes, Richard. The Genuine History of the Life of Richard Turpin. J Standen, 1739.
Jackson, William. The New and Complete Newgate Calendar. Inner Temple, 1795.
Kyll, Thomas. The Trial of the Notorious Highwayman Richard Turpin. Ward and Chandler, 1739.
Sharpe, James. The Myth of the English Highwayman. Profile Books, 2005.

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Catherine’s tale of highwaymen and intrigue in 18th century Edinburgh, The Crown Spire, is available now.

Glorious Georgian ginbag, gossip and gadabout Catherine Curzon, aka Madame Gilflurt, is the author of A Covent Garden Gilflurt’s Guide to Life. When not setting quill to paper, she can usually be found gadding about the tea shops and gaming rooms of the capital or hosting intimate gatherings at her tottering abode. In addition to her blog and Facebook, Madame G is also quite the charmer on Twitter. Her first book, Life in the Georgian Court, is available now, and she is also working on An Evening with Jane Austen, starring Adrian Lukis and Caroline Langrishe.

The Last Dance at Tyburn

By Catherine Curzon

In the world of Georgian highway robbery there are some names that have stood the test of time. "Blueskin" Blake, Plunkett and MacLaine and, of course, Dick Turpin himself are characters who have passed into English legend. They have appeared in literature, film and theatre, inspired fashion and music and, particularly in Turpin's case, become virtual folk heroes since their most notorious days. Less well known is the name of John Austin but, though he was not the most famous highwayman history has known, he does hold the dubious honour of being the last man to swing from the Tyburn tree. What were the circumstances though brought him to his sorry fate, and how did the matter of a hat lead a man to the infamous gallows?

On 23rd October 1783 a man named John Spicer was making his unassuming way to London, dreaming of a new start and hopefully, new opportunities. He had come from Grays in Essex and was something of an innocent abroad, with little experience in the city. So, when he encountered two very friendly chaps who promised to show him the way to decent lodgings where a man might fill his belly, Spicer was happy to go along with these new, heaven-sent friends. For a couple of days all was rosy on the road to London, yet on the third night things took a sinister turn. Spicer's companions invited him to follow them to their new lodging, promising a pleasant evening in good company. No doubt looking forward to a warm bed and good food, the hapless traveller instead found himself in the middle of open fields near Bethnal Green.

Out in the middle of nowhere and with no chance of rescue, Spicer must have thought his time had come when one of the men drew a cutlass and demanded that he hand over his valuables. Despite being outnumbered and unarmed, Spicer fought furiously, but Austin and his accomplice were able to wrestle him to the ground, binding his hands tightly and taking all of his possessions, or so they thought. The Proceedings of the Old Bailey record that he was relieved of:

"...one silver watch, value 30 s. a steel chain, value 1 s. a steel key, value 2 d. two silk handkerchiefs, value 4 s. two pair of worsted stockings, value 4 s. one linen shirt, value 12 d. one man's hat, value 12 d. the property of the said John Spicer."

If not for the intervention of a local man named James Strong, it might be that the attack could have been even worse. Strong was working in the garden of his employer, Giles Wells, when he heard the altercation and interrupted the assault, even giving chase to the felons when they fled the scene. Unable to catch either of the men, Strong instead helped the badly beaten Spicer to the local infirmary where his injuries were tended; luckily, he was not fatally wounded and was able to tell his rescuer exactly what had happened.

Upon hearing of the attack, Wells asked Strong to return to the scene of the crime by daylight and see if the men had dropped any of Spicer's stolen belongings. Instead, what he found was the clearly very dedicated John Austin searching the field where the robbery had taken place for Spicer's hat, which was left behind after the attack. Challenged by Strong, Austin told him that he was an innocent man, forced to participate in the robbery by his unnamed accomplice under threat of death should he not go along with the scheme. Strong found the explanation unlikely to say the least and locked Austin in a stable whilst the authorities were summoned. When Austin was taken from his makeshift cell, Wells found the stolen shirt and stockings concealed in the stable, reaching the inescapable conclusion that Austin must have concealed them there in an effort to rid himself of any damning evidence.

The case was presided over by a Mr Eyre, who showed no hesitation in passing the death sentence on Austin, and on 7th November 1783 he was taken by cart to the Tyburn gallows through a mob of enthusiastic spectators. His dignified composure failed him at the last, and as the noose was placed around his neck he implored the crowd:

"Good people, I request your prayers for the salvation of my departing soul. Let my example teach you to shun the bad ways I have followed. Keep good company, and mind the word of God. Lord have mercy on me. Jesus look down with pity on me. Christ have mercy on my poor soul!"

With his final words uttered, Austin's head was covered by the cap. He seemed to speak again, but his words were silenced as the cart started forward. In a final cruel twist Austin's neck didn't break immediately; instead, he was slowly strangled to death over ten excruciating minutes.

John Austin was the last person to die on the near legendary Tyburn gallows. Though the Tyburn Tree has long since been dismantled, and a busy road covers the place where so many died, it remains an iconic image of Georgian England, and one with many stories to tell.

Sources

http://www.oldbaileyonline.org/browse.jsp?id=t17831029-4-defend133&div=t17831029-4#highlight

Gatrell, Vic, The Hanging Tree: Execution and the English People 1770-1868 (OUP, Oxford, 1996)
Brooke, Alan and Brandon, David, Tyburn: London's Fatal Tree (The History Press, 2013)
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Glorious Georgian ginbag, gossip and gadabout Catherine Curzon, aka Madame Gilflurt, is the author of A Covent Garden Gilflurt’s Guide to Life. When not setting quill to paper, she can usually be found gadding about the tea shops and gaming rooms of the capital or hosting intimate gatherings at her tottering abode. In addition to her blog and Facebook, Madame G is also quite the charmer on Twitter. Her first book, Life in the Georgian Court, is available now, and she is also working on An Evening with Jane Austen, starring Adrian Lukis and Caroline Langrishe.

Tom Faggus - a Devon Highwayman

Tom Faggus is a 17th Century Highwayman who is recalled in Devon with great fondness. He was a Robin Hood-like figure, who evaded capture for a long time, and became something of a hero in his time.

Tom Faggus

In his younger days, he was a blacksmith in North Devon and was so skilled he won an award for his craftmanship at the North Devon Show.

However, later on he got into a legal brawl with a local wealthy family - the Bampflydes. He lost everything, including the girl he was due to marry. Her father refused to allow the marriage to go ahead.

So what was a man to do? He turned to highway robbery and was very successful straight away. However, he set himself apart from other robbers by treating his victim with great courtesy and was not violent unlike others. He also notably only stole from very the wealthy and left poorer folk alone and was known to be generous to the poor.

Many traps were set to try and catch him, but he evaded capture with the help of his horse - a strawberry roan mare called Winnie who would come to his aid when he whistled.

A Strawberry Roan

One time a group of vigilantes gathered to lay wait for him. Tom, realising that they dithered and were unsure who he was, asked the amateurs who they were waiting for. They told him about the famous highwayman and allowed him to join them. Tom inspected their firearms and told them to discharge their weapons because the gunpowder was damp. They did this, and Tom duly robbed them of their purses.

One of Tom's victims was Sir Richard Bampfylde, the man who had left him destitute. However, Tom returned Sir Richard's money to him saying that it was not customary for one robber to steal from another.

Eventually Tom was captured by a trap set for him. In a tavern, a constable dressed as a beggar was offered a drink by Tom. The beggar knocked Tom to the ground and bound him. Tom tried to whistle for Winnie, but the horse had been killed in the stable. It is thought Tom was hanged, but no record of his execution has been found. He was immortalised in R D Blackmore's book "Lorna Doone" as a character who married Jan Ridd's sister and who obtained a pardon from King James II.

Jenna Dawlish

www.jennadawlish.com