Short History Of... - Highwaymen

Episode Date: November 20, 2023

For centuries, stories have been told about highwaymen - dangerous rogues who attacked unsuspecting travellers in the dead of night, demanding their money or their life. These robbers have been romanticised into myths, plays, films, and songs. But what’s the truth behind the legends? Who were the real men - and sometimes women - who risked death sentences for the contents of a purse? How did authorities respond to highway robbery? And do these career criminals really deserve such heroic status? This is a Short History Of Highwaymen. Written by Danny Marshall. With thanks to Fiona McDonald, author of ‘Gentlemen Rogues and Wicked Ladies: A Guide to British highwaymen and highwaywomen.’ Check out Noiser’s podcast Real Outlaws for more episodes like this one! Search for Real Outlaws wherever you get your podcasts, or follow this link www.podfollow.com/real-outlaws For ad-free listening, exclusive content and early access to new episodes, join Noiser+. Now available for Apple and Android users. Click the Noiser+ banner on Apple or go to noiser.com/subscriptions to get started with a 7-day free trial. Learn more about your ad choices. Visit podcastchoices.com/adchoices

Get groceries delivered across the GTA from Real Canadian Superstore with PC Express. Shop online for super prices and super savings. Try it today and get up to $75 in PC Optimum Points. Visit superstore.ca to get started. It is summer, 1665. Moonlight spills through the trees fringing Hounslow Heath, just west of London. A breeze rustles the leaves above the rutted lane, but everywhere is silent except for the occasional screech of a fox. In a section of woodland beside the lane, seven men are waiting.

Among them their leader, Claude Duval, strokes the flanks of his horse to calm her. But she's heard something. Duval holds up a hand and the group peer out onto the lane. Distant wheels rumble across hard-packed dirt. A coach is approaching. The men watch its dim oil lamps grow brighter as it thunders towards them. It's a large four-wheeled stagecoach pulled by four horses, its oblivious driver silhouetted at the front. It might be racing now, but horses won't cope well with the change from the moonlit heath into the dark woods.

The coach will have to slow. Staying in the shadows, Duval pulls back the hammer on his pistol with a soft click. As the coach nears the tree line, it slows, entering the thicket at walking pace. Suddenly, there's a bright flash. The crack of a gunshot snaps through the trees. The coachman stands, reaching for his gun. A second shot freezes him. The masked rider moves forward and levels a pistol at the coach driver's head. The rest of the gang slink from the bushes, menacing in low-browed hats and masks. They surround a coach, pulling open the door. The passengers, a well-dressed man and his much younger wife, shrink back in horror.

It's a rare traveler who won't have heard stories of notorious highwaymen with their reputations for intimidation, violence, and much worse. But Duval is different. Swinging down from his horse, he addresses the couple in a French accent, politely requesting that they give up their valuables. The moonlight catches on his tall, polished boots, silk shirt, and resplendent riding coat of green velvet. The two passengers recognize him, despite the black mask and large felt hat. This is the womanizing dandy they've heard about, the gentlemanly scourge of wealthy travelers. Still, nervously clutching their valuables, the passengers at least no longer fear for their lives. In fact, being held up by this gallant rogue could actually enhance one's social standing.

The young woman glares at him defiantly. He sees she is clutching a flageolet, a small flute-like instrument, and jokingly asks her to play. To demonstrate she is not afraid, she complies. Complimenting her playing, Duval slides his pistol into his belt and takes her hand. He asks her to climb down from the coach and requests a dance. Surrounded by guns, she has no choice but to agree and lets the highwayman lead. At first she is rigid, watching her husband inside the coach and the gang members grinning behind their masks. But the handsome outlaw dances beautifully, and for a moment she almost forgets the guns

and the danger. After a few minutes, the dance concludes. Duval bows deeply, and the woman is escorted back into the coach. With an outstretched hand, woman is escorted back into the coach. With an outstretched hand, the highwayman now requests the husband pay for the entertainment. He takes the man's purse, counts through the cash. There's four hundred pounds in there. But he removes just one hundred pounds, then hands the rest back. For the dance, Duval says with a grin, climbing gracefully back into his saddle. Raising his hat, he bids the travelers a good evening, before spurring his horse out across the common, into the darkness. Holding up stagecoaches, robbing travelers, and galloping away into the night, highwaymen were a particular class of lawbreakers who terrorized England's roadways.

Though most prominent from the 17th to the early 19th century, names like Dick Turpin and Claude Duval have become legendary as dandy gentlemen of the road, heroes to the common man. But there was a darker side too. These were hardened criminals, who often chose violence in pursuit of riches. So who were the real men, and sometimes women, who risked the hangman's noose for the contents of a purse or a mailbag? women who risked the hangman's noose for the contents of a purse or a mailbag? What was the response to the growing trend for highway robbery? And what led to its eventual demise?

And how did these career criminals find their way into the popular imagination? I'm John Hopkins. From Noisa, this is a short history of highwaymen. Though highwaymen came to prominence in England in the 1600s, their practices are certainly nothing new. Roadside robbery has taken place for as long as there have been roads. Fiona MacDonald is the author of Gentlemen Rogues and Wicked Ladies, a guide to British highwaymen and highwaywomen. Probably one of the earliest examples would be Robin Hood. Now, Robin Hood is one of those characters we really don't know any real facts about.

We get lots of stories and ballads, and these have been elaborated on, and he becomes a folk hero, someone who robs the rich to give to the poor. And I think that it's this aspect that has really struck a chord with people across the centuries. But the term highwayman is used to refer to a particular type of crime. They stalk their victims on horseback, preying on coaches or travellers on the roads, as opposed to a housebreaker who burgles houses, or a footpad. A lot of highwaymen started out as footpads. A footpad was someone who committed a robbery in

public, outside in public, on a street or a road, in a park, on the heath, but they weren't mounted on a horse. One of the earliest cases of highway robbery, as we'd recognize it, occurs in the mid-1530s. Humphrey Kynaston, the son of the High Sheriff of Shropshire, is indicted for a murder, but declared an outlaw when he flees prosecution. is indicted for a murder, but declared an outlaw when he flees prosecution. He takes to living in a cave in the forest, robbing wealthy travelers and distributing the proceeds among the locals in return for food and occasional shelter from authorities. This earns him a Robin Hood-like reputation, setting the mold for the noble robbers we love today. But the term highwayman isn't recorded until the early 17th century, and when it comes

into widespread use a few decades later, it's ushered in on a tidal wave of violence. The 1640s sees England torn apart by a brutal civil war. On one side, King Charles I believes he has the divine right to rule as he sees fit, without a parliament. Opposing him are disparate groups of nobles and religious and political leaders with a long list of grievances. The conflict consumes the British Isles, culminating with the defeat of royalist forces British Isles, culminating with the defeat of royalist forces and the execution of the king in 1649. And it's in the years that follow the war that thefts on the highway really get going.

Many soldiers returning from the wars find themselves out of work. Those who supported the king are now out of favor and find their titles, wealth, and land confiscated. Though some of these men have no trades or skills in peacetime, what they do now have is military experience, excellent horsemanship and an intimate knowledge of weapons. The number of people who became highwaymen and women rose at the time of the Civil War. A lot of royalists made vows to shoot dead any parliamentarian they robbed on the roads.

And of course, vice versa was true. Like people anywhere, being a soldier can be a job, maybe not so much for the royalists, but certainly for the parliamentarians, the roundheads. So for them, it wasn't so much a matter of honour, perhaps, as robbing was really about getting money, making money to live. Perhaps the chance of getting even with the enemy was an added bonus for them, but I think not so much as it was for the royalists. Perhaps the most famous of these Civil War era high women is Captain James Hynde, an Oxfordshire man and royalist agitator who gains a reputation for charm and politeness. Hynde was not a person of wealth or high quality. He was the son of a saddler, but he did learn to read and write, which was a bit unusual at the time. He was apprenticed to a butcher, but he didn't like that very much, so he ran away to London, as many of these people do. Another thing that often happens in these stories when people

go to London is that they find the appeal of alcohol, gambling, and women, and they don't really want to have a job to pay for these things. Though not the first, Hind is one of the earliest of this new breed of highwaymen on record. On his first robbery, he relieves his victim of 15 pounds, but then gives him 20 shillings back to cover his journey home. Various stories like this paint Hind as a folk hero, distributing his proceeds among royalist sympathizers and the poor. distributing his proceeds among royalist sympathizers and the poor. Legend has it that he made a vow only to rob the rich,

though it's likely many of the tales about him are embellished or made up entirely. What is true is that Hind succeeds in holding up some high-profile victims, whom he calls clients. One day, he targets the president of the High Court of Justice, who had tried King Charles. On other occasions, two more signatories to the king's death warrant fall victim. He overreaches himself when he holds up Oliver Cromwell, the Lord Protector who leads the country in this period between monarchies. Hind narrowly escapes Cromwell's military guards, leaving his accomplice to be caught and ultimately hanged. Incidents such as these are printed and circulated in pamphlets, casting the highwayman as heroes of the people and menaces to the strict, unpopular government.

By now, Hind has become more than a mere highwayman. He is an icon of royalist rebellion. When Charles II raises another army against Cromwell's government, Hind rushes to his side. Charles is so amused by the tales of adventure, he makes him a captain of cavalry. But it doesn't last long. When Charles faces a military defeat in 1651 and is forced to flee to France, Hind stays in England. But it's a mistake. He is finally captured a year later, by which time Parliament is out for revenge against all symbols of royalist resistance.

Hind was found guilty and sentenced to hang. But something very strange happened. He was granted a pardon. Now, normally that would be an amazing thing to happen, something to celebrate. Except in this case, it really wasn't. The reason behind the pardon was called an act of oblivion. And in this case, all charges were dropped. But this was only done so he could in fact be charged with high treason,

which was an even worse offence and had a far more serious penalty. He was not only hanged, he was hanged, drawn and quartered, and this was as a deterrent to others. His head was actually set up on the bridge gate over the River Severn and his body was left to rot at the city gates. But though gruesome, it fails as a deterrent and the number of highwaymen only increases. Then, following the death of Oliver Cromwell, the monarchy is finally restored with the return of King Charles II. As the people turn their backs on the religious austerity of the

last decade, pleasure once more becomes a pastime. Theaters are reopened and gambling, drinking and debauchery are back on the menu in towns and cities across the country. The profits of this liberated society are ferried around by travelers on horseback or in coaches. Many travel through the night, when the roads are quieter. But it's getting increasingly dangerous to cross the heaths and woodlands, particularly on the roads in and out of London. The routes to the South Coast, the Great North Road and the highways west to Bath, Bristol and Exeter become particular hotspots. The robberies weren't necessarily committed on major roads,

such as we think of when we think of a highway or the King's Highway. They would have been committed in places that were well known to travellers and travellers who would have had money. The theft was not just about cash, though. It was also jewellery, deeds to property, weapons, anything that could either be used or resold. The robberies were committed all over the place. They weren't confined to a particular area, although certain areas have gained a reputation. Hampstead Heath is one of these.

And I think that certain places have a reputation because they've been linked with a particular highwayman or woman. And they're in the stories and the romances and ballads that we hear about. greatest showman becomes the most original musical ever i want to prove i can make it prove to who everyone so the story starts better man now playing in select theaters in the days before police cities employ militia to patrol the roads and hunt down wrongdoers this means that a fast horse is essential for a highwayman to stay one step ahead of the law fast horse is essential for a highwayman to stay one step ahead of the law. But horses are high maintenance, and in order to keep their mounts fed, watered, stabled, and cared for, highwaymen need networks of sympathizers. Lucky for them, many see the outlaws as anti-authority figures standing up for ordinary people. And there's often an innkeeper who can be persuaded, by way of cold, hard cash, to turn a blind eye.

To avoid detection, high women typically wear masks, and some even go as far as holding pebbles in their mouths to disguise their voices. Others, though, need to disguise a lot more than that. Others, though, need to disguise a lot more than that. In 1660, Lady Ferrars, a gentlewoman and heiress, allegedly dresses as a man on the Hertfordshire roads by night. In the absence of her royalist husband, she robs on the highways to replenish her dwindling fortune. Catherine Ferrars was, of course, an anti-parliamentarian. It's thought she would dress in a three-cornered hat and men's breeches, cloaked and with a mask.

Though the mask is possibly a romantic touch. In the 17th century, women wore various forms of dress. And one of the undergarments was a set of panniers, which were like heavy saddlebags, almost, on the side of the hips. The dresses had layers and layers, didn't they? Petticoats, whale bones, bodices, which is one of the reasons she would have adopted male dress when she went out robbing on the highway. Apparently, she would come and go from her home via a secret passageway and when she was out robbing she'd do things like slaughter cattle. She's even supposed to have robbed families while they slept in their beds. Not a nice character. Perhaps the most popular story of Lady Ferrars is that she held

up a wagon of supplies headed for an inn and shot the driver dead on the spot, but an armed passenger pulled out a firearm and shot her in return. What became of her is a mystery. Some accounts say she got as far as the secret passageway to her home, but she died of her wounds. Lady Ferrars is not alone. Many women engage in highway robbery, and countless more assist high women by providing shelter, acting as fences for stolen goods, or by participating directly as part of a gang. Typically, the bands are small, with often fewer than ten members. It takes at least one high woman to stand in the road to stop a coach, and several others to hold guns on the coachmen and passengers. In the 1660s, one such gang leader is Frenchman Claude Duval.

He originally comes to England in the service of a nobleman, returning from exile with Charles II. When they were able to return to England, they took Duval with them, And this was during the early time of Charles II's restoration to the throne. There was a lot of frivolity at the time, a lot of rejoicing, a lot of celebration. And Duval was only too happy to join in with this. There was drinking, gambling, womanizing, and Duval enjoyed all of these things very much. But they came at a cost. And like a lot of other highwaymen, he did not want to have a job to pay for them. He quickly develops a reputation for being a gallant, dashing, handsome robber,

with manners more akin to the gentleman he preys upon than his fellow criminals. The most famous story about Claude Duval is the moonlit dance with a young noblewoman on Hounslow Heath, immortalised by William Powell Frith in a painting which now hangs in Manchester Art Gallery. We don't know the truth, but the legend is that Duval stopped a particular coach in which there was a young woman and her husband. She was playing a flageolet, which is a little pipe akin to the tin whistle. Duval was absolutely delighted with this music. The legend goes that instead of telling her to hand over her jewellery, Duval instead invited her to get down from the coach and dance a courant with him,

which she supposedly did. And when they finished the dance, the young woman was handed back into the coach and Duval said to her husband, well, now you have to pay for the dance, which her husband apparently did. Tales like this circulate within Duval's own lifetime, and records attest to him being much loved by the public. The authorities, though, are less enamoured. His picture and description are circulated on printed handbills, alongside rewards for information leading to his capture. At his height, he is the most wanted and celebrated criminal in England, so it's only a matter of time until his notoriety catches up with him.

After his eventual arrest in a Covent Garden pub, he is visited nightly in his cell by a string of high-class women of London society, discreetly masked to avoid personal scandal. And when he's sentenced to hang for his crimes, a great many noblewomen at court protest to the king on his behalf. Sadly for him, his gallantry doesn't spare him the gallows. As the 1600s tick by, highway robbery becomes endemic. And though local patrols are occasionally organized,

other than rewards posted in pamphlets and newspapers, there is no coordinated national response. That doesn't mean some don't have to go to extreme measures to outsmart their would-be captors. It is just before sunrise in the summer of 1676. A dark figure sits astride a bay mare on the wild grass of Gad's Hill, Kent, around 25 miles from London. Pushing a pistol into his belt, this highwayman, Nix, is watching his most recent

victim gallop away through the scrubby bushes, having been relieved of several hundred pounds. Nix is not usually a violent highwayman and has earned a reputation for gallantry. But now he thinks he may have made a mistake in letting the man get away. During the robbery, he felt he knew his victim, and something tells him that the recognition was mutual. But what worries him is what will happen next. But what worries him is what will happen next. As soon as the victim reaches Rochester and summons the magistrate, the locals will be scouring the countryside for nicks.

Capture would spell a one-way trip to the gallows. But as the breeze flattens the grass across the top of the hill, he tugs his broad hat lower. He's got an idea. Though he's been working these parts recently, he's more familiar with the vast land to the north, and he's lucky to own an exceptional horse. There may well still be a way to cheat the hangman. He snaps the reins, and soon they're galloping full tilt down the other side of the hill. Nix follows the track north, towards the mighty River Thames.

The horizon is only just beginning to lighten by the time they make it to Gravesend, boarding a ferry across the water. Back on dry land, Nix rides north through Essex. By breakfast time, he's riding into Chelmsford. Slowing to a trot to conserve his horse's energy, Nix navigates the back alleys to a friendly inn he has used before. There he lets his faithful mare rest while he goes inside to refuel himself for the ride ahead. Inside the atmosphere is cheerful, the inn full of merchants and labourers, readying themselves for travel.

But it's imperative that Nix isn't noticed, so he keeps his head down as he orders a plate of bread and dripping and a mug of ale. Once refreshed, he heads back outside, on the road before the rest of the city has even fully awoken. They push north, over the Downs to Cambridge. The great North Road stretches before him, the spine of England. Nix overtakes coach after coach after carriage, and by midday he is approaching the spires of Lincoln, halfway up the country. But though his back screams for a rest and his fingers are numb and bleeding, he dare not stop. After skirting the city, he picks up pace again, over moorland

and tumbling streams, through villages and hamlets. As the sun dips towards the Pennine hills in the west, he catches another ferry across Yorkshire's Humber River. ferry across Yorkshire's Humber River. He doesn't slow until he sees the monolithic towers of York's Cathedral in the distance. Once inside the city that he knows so well, he finds a coaching inn and lets his horse enjoy a well-earned rest. But he still has work to do. Hastily unpacking his saddlebags, he discards his riding gear and changes into fashionable town clothes. It's a short walk to a bowling green, where he strides straight up to a group of gentlemen in the middle of a match. Among them is the Lord Mayor of York himself. Nix strikes up a conversation, entering into a ridiculous wager on

the match, making himself as memorable as possible. As they discuss the game at length, Nix makes a performance of pulling out his watch, taking care to bring the date and time into their conversation. Sometime later, the law catches up with the High Women. He is arrested and brought to trial, where his victim details the exact time and location of the robbery. In his defense, Nix simply produces the Lord Mayor of York, who swears to the exact time he discussed a wager with Nix 250 miles north of the site of the offense. The jury acquits, believing it to be impossible that a man can be in two such remote places on the same day.

Nix's true identity isn't known for sure, but many historians believe him to have been John or William Neveson. Neveson is a Yorkshireman and ex-soldier, famous in his day for robbing on the Great North Road everywhere from Kent to York. Like Duval, he has a reputation for preferring to rob the rich, always politely avoiding violence. It's claimed that it's Charles II who, upon meeting Neverson and hearing of his dashing ride, dubs him Swift Nix. But if Neverson is Swift Nix, his ride only prolongs the inevitable. He is jailed for horse theft the next year, and though he initially avoids the death penalty,

a few years later he's hanged after all, for an escape attempt. It's a regular occurrence. Trial and prison records are full of the executions of highwaymen. Some are notorious and live on in pamphlets or ballads. But the majority are simple criminals, often caught and executed after a single, botched robbery. Even so, for the lucky few with money, even prison has its perks. Newgate was the prison for hardened criminals. However, if you had money, you could live quite well in Newgate. You'd send the jailers out for good food and wine, and the jailers were open to corruption. One of the things that happened in those days was that the public was allowed in to hear the famous criminals telling their stories.

And highwaymen in particular attracted large audiences. And those who wanted to go and hear these stories firsthand would have to pay to get in. But if a prisoner has been sentenced to hang, they can only put off the inevitable for so long. Condemned criminals are brought out from London's Newgate prison on open carts through three miles of crowds. The cart usually stops at an inn, where the condemned is allowed a few strong drinks before rumbling on their way. It's said to be the origin of the phrase, one for the road. From there, there's only one more stop, Tyburn. The gallows there, known as the Tyburn Tree, is a large three-legged structure which can be used to hang multiple criminals at once. Public executions are a spectacle,

a day out for the whole family. For the most famous criminals, crowds can be enormous. The highwayman Jack Shepherd's execution in 1724 is said to draw a crowd 200,000 strong. As the noose is placed over their head, the condemned criminal is expected to say a few words to the crowd, a final act of bravado. As the Georgians put it, the villains are expected to say a few words to the crowd, a final act of bravado. As the Georgians put it, the villains are expected to die game. Executions of high women are rowdy, boozy affairs. The word hangover is said to derive from the spectator's head the day after a hanging. The only thing the mob loves more than a highwayman is an execution,

the grislier the better. But even death isn't the end of the ordeal. The body could be displayed in a gibbet, also called hanging in chains. A gibbet was a cage-like structure suspended from an upright and cross piece, Just like in the word game Hangman, the already dead body was placed in the cage and left as a warning to others. Don't rob people. This could happen to you. The warning, though, isn't enough of a deterrent,

and the conditions in England by the early 1700s work in a high woman's favour. An increasing number of rich travellers are carrying the wealth of a burgeoning empire between towns on lonely rural roads. In addition, specialist mail coaches transport documents and deeds, money, and other important items long distances through the night. Lax gun laws and a lack of police make the roads dangerous places. Unlike elsewhere in Europe, a standing army is not permitted to act on British soil in peacetime.

People have long memories of the Civil War, and soldiers patrolling the roads would feel too much like the Royal Authority breaching its boundaries. Coaches must rely on their own weapons for protection. Coaches must rely on their own weapons for protection. They had rifles and muskets, which was a longer-barrelled gun, and they had the terrifying blunderbuss, which was a mean-looking flared-barrel shotgun, and it was loaded with lead balls that could shred a man at close distance.

These were more often used by the people traveling on coaches to protect themselves. To counter this threat, highwaymen carry fine weapons, often accurate and well-crafted dueling pistols stolen from wealthy victims. The flintlock pistol works by having a piece of flint held in place by a cock. That's the part of the gun that's drawn backwards in order for it to be fired. When the trigger's pulled, it strikes down onto a piece of steel sitting above the pan, which holds the gunpowder. It's the spark from the flint on the steel that ignites the gunpowder that's packed behind the bullets and propels the bullet forward. It couldn't be reloaded quickly at all.

It was a tricky and cumbersome thing to do. This effectively makes pistols single-shot weapons in a heated exchange. High women will typically carry several loaded and primed pistols to give them superior firepower, slung on belts and holsters about their body. They may also carry a carbine, a short military rifle that can be wielded on horseback, in a holster on the saddle. When guns run out of bullets, daggers and swords are still used for close encounters. But despite these fine trappings, highway robbery is far too lucrative to remain the preserve of well-mannered gentlemen of the road.

Increasingly, the majority of the high women of the 1700s are characterized by vicious thuggery. Women are violently assaulted, men are savagely beaten, stabbings and shootings are common, and in the days before modern medicine, these wounds are often the start of a lingering, painful death. It is one of this breed of more brutal villains who will go on to gain an undeserved reputation as a figurehead for all high women. In the pre-industrial villages of 1730s Essex, a wild poaching gang is gaining a reputation for cruelty and sadism. To fence their stolen venison, they turn to local butcher Richard, known to his friends as Dick. Soon the gang switch to housebreaking, with Dick Turpin now a fully-fledged member.

now a fully-fledged member. On one occasion, Turpin forces an elderly man to sit on a fire and pours the contents of a kettle over his head. On another, a vicar's servant is slashed about the face. Thieving, beating, and raping their way through the farmsteads of Essex, their crime spree attracts the attention of the authorities, including the Secretary of State, the Duke of Newcastle. He offers a large bounty for any information leading to the capture of the gang. Eventually, most of the Essex gang are arrested in a London tavern, but, miraculously, Turpin is not with them that day. While his former gangmates are hanged and left to rot in chains along the Edgware Road, Turpin is not with them that day. While his former gangmates are hanged and left to rot in chains along the Edgware Road, Turpin goes to ground. But now he is a wanted man,

with a price on his head and newspapers carrying his description. 5'9", scarred by smallpox, about 26 years of age. Robbing rural farms without a large gang is risky, so Turpin switches to the roadside crimes that will ensure his name lives on down the centuries. But surprisingly, given his legacy, Turpin's nocturnal career on the Essex highways only lasts a couple of years. When he accidentally shoots his partner dead during an attempted arrest, he flees, first to his Epping forest hideout where he guns down a warden in cold blood, then north. Under the alias John Palmer, he lies low in a Yorkshire village for almost 18 months, but his fiery temper won't be constrained. but his fiery temper won't be constrained.

Erupting in the village of Brough, Yorkshire, Turpin shoots a prize-fighting rooster in the street, following a poor day's hunt. He is arrested for that, but an eagle-eyed justice of the peace digs around and uncovers evidence that he's stolen horses, too. He is sent off to the county jail, but as a first offence, he could be facing transportation rather than the noose.

Eventually, though, his true identity is revealed. A battle for jurisdiction follows, but York magistrates win the prestige of the trial. So he's sentenced to die there for horse theft, rather than in Essex for highway robbery. On a cold morning in 1739, Turpin leaves the condemned cell of York jail. His cart rumbles out of the city walls through jeering crowds to York Tyburn, the North's infamous three-legged gallows which copies its more famous London cousin. Here, Turpin lives up to the legends, defiant to the last. Mounting the ladder, he places his head through the noose and, after exchanging brief words with the hangman, launches himself to oblivion. His story is recorded in the pamphlets of the time,

but soon he's all but forgotten. Other villains spring up just as quickly. Captain James McLean lives as a well-known Irish gentleman in London society. With a house in fashionable St. James's Street and a faithful manservant, William Plunkett, he seduces other men's wives and hobnobs with the elite by day. But to pay for his lavish lifestyle, by night the two men pursue a nefarious career. The duo stalk the roads around the capital, stealing gold and jewelry and splitting the proceeds equally. They are always restrained and courteous, leading the newspapers of the day to describe Maclean as the gentleman highwayman. the day to describe Maclean as the gentleman high woman. In 1749, the daring Plunkett and Maclean even rob famous writer and MP Horace Walpole at gunpoint in Hyde Park. After the robbery,

Maclean writes to Walpole under an alias to apologize for the discharging of a pistol in his direction and to offer him first refusal on his own belongings back, for a hefty fee. Walpole neglects to take the high women up on his generous offer. It's a successful but short criminal career for the pair, which ends upon Maclean's arrest in the summer of 1750. His trial is a fashionable event, with many high society celebrities turning out to watch. Maclean is less dignified in the dock than he'd been on horseback, and places all the blame on his accomplice, William Plunkett. While Plunkett disappears into obscurity with their illicit gains,

Maclean is hanged that autumn. But not all convicted highway robbers meet their demise at the end of a rope. Another highway woman was Mary Bryant. She committed highway robbery with a couple of friends. We only know of this one robbery where she stole some money and jewellery. As she was pregnant at the time, and it was her first offence, the sentence handed down was not one of execution. It was seven years' transportation to Australia. She was one of the first convicts to be sent to Australia on the First Fleet in 1788. By the time of Bryant's transportation, the era of highwaymen is drawing to a close. Turnpike roads, new, broad, well-made highways, are increasingly being constructed

across the country. To pay for their development, regular toll booths collect fees from travellers. They're designed to be difficult to avoid or dodge, so sighting and tracking highwaymen becomes easier for town constables. At the same time, banknotes are taking over from gold coins. These are much simpler to trace and can't be melted down and fenced like gold and jewelry. The Enclosure Act of 1773 introduces more barriers in the countryside. Common land is sealed off and roads are walled in, making it much harder to ambush unsuspecting victims. To make matters worse for the highwaymen, thanks to the Industrial Revolution, populations are growing, shifting to towns and cities.

The rural countryside is slowly being eaten up. There are simply more witnesses around and less open countryside in which to hide. witnesses around and less open countryside in which to hide. Advances in weapons technology means a highwayman's prospective victims are all equipped with the latest revolvers and carbines which can fire multiple shots. A savvy guard on a mail coach can now defend himself against an entire gang. Highway robbery simply becomes too risky for the rewards. On the 3rd of November 1783, after 650 years of continuous use and tens of thousands of victims, highwayman John Austin becomes the last to face London's Tyburn gallows.

But it will be another 20 years before the law catches up with its final high women. It is late afternoon on the 11th of March 1802. On a lonely road outside Hemel Hempstead, some 25 miles north of London, a crowd has been gathering all day. A local holiday has been declared and many have taken the opportunity to get a good view. Watching from inside the doorway of the Swan Coaching Inn, 41-year-old James Snook's face twitches into a smile. The driver of the cart which brought him here from Hartford told him thousands have turned out. Through the window, Snook scans the open ground of Boxmore Common alongside the road and realises it was no exaggeration. Snook, known locally as Robber Snooks, has worn his best green riding coat and embroidered waistcoat for the occasion.

riding coat and embroidered waistcoat for the occasion. He's bought new breeches which are tucked into tall shining riding boots and he's folded the cravat around his white ruffled shirt with care. The clothing is all part of the spectacle. The crowd expects him to look his best and besides it's not like he needs his money anymore. It's not like he needs his money anymore. Snook takes one last gulp from a tankard of ale and hands it to a guard beside him. As he steps outside into the cool afternoon, the noise from the crowd swells. More guards force people back as Snook strides to the cart beneath the inn's swinging sign. Before he climbs up, he pauses to pat the horse's neck, whispering in her ear. He's good with horses, and for some time had been working as a groom at the king's arms,

a short distance away. The work granted him close access to the many travelers passing through, and intimate knowledge of their journey plans. A perfect day job for a highwayman. But now, thanks to a reward offered by the postmaster, the noose finally beckons. Two days ago he was found guilty of robbing a postboy. He was initially sentenced to be hanged in chains, meaning that after he's executed in the usual way, his corpse would be suspended in a cage to deter others. But such grisly scenes have fallen from favor, so Snoke will simply be hanged. Urged on by the guards, he walks around the cart

and climbs aboard. From his vantage point, he can see the full extent of the crowds now, still arriving from all directions. Beyond them, a group of five horse chestnut trees marks the spot where the crime was committed. It's there that the High Constable has decided to stage Snook's departure from this world. Over the branch of one tree, a rope has already been slung. Now, at a command from the driver, the horses pull forward. The crowd surges, crying out, shouting, laughing, chanting.

But there's too many of them. The road is blocked by these morbid spectators, and the cart slows to a crawl. Determined to make the most of his last moments on Earth, Snook engages the crowd. He places his hands on the railing of the cart and calls out to them. It's no good hurrying, he shouts. They can't start the fun until I get there.

Robber Snooks is the last person to be executed in England for highway robbery. By the time of his death, the advancements in technology and communications have caused a steep decline in the activities of highwaymen. But not everywhere is changing at the same rate, and elsewhere Snooks's peers cling on to their ways for longer. In Ireland, Captain Gallagher has been terrorizing the mail coaches and wealthy travellers of County Mayo. His motivations are not entirely monetary. Being a fervent agitator for Irish home rule, he targets the British ruling class, landowners, and the military. He is finally apprehended by 200 British soldiers and executed in 1812.

Further afield, the Australian folk hero Ned Kelly is the most famous of the country's bush rangers, a breed of settlers and ex-convicts who prey on travellers in rural territories. Proud of his Irish heritage and resentful of the English landowning class and government, Kelly graduates to bank robbery. He later repurposes his High Women story into an attempted, but ultimately doomed, political uprising. Back in England, high women may have died out on the roads, but they're poised for rebirth in folklore. Legend begins to overtake history in the form of chapbooks, small, cheap publications often containing lurid tales,

the pop culture entertainment of the day. The most popular of these are the Newgate calendars. A monthly periodical, first published in the mid-1700s, have grown into a large collection of tales of blood-curdling true crime. High women are an especially popular topic. These stories of the highwaymen and women were written down and bound by the ordinaries of Newgate. Sometimes the stories were written shortly afterwards, but mostly they were written quite a long time afterwards. They were put together as compendiums and sold to the public. These books became really popular and they were often given to children.

books became really popular and they were often given to children. The idea was to turn children away from lives of crime, but I doubt if that was particularly effective. Nostalgic for a simpler, romantic, bygone age, the English public love an adventure story. Even better if it's led by a gallant underdog taking down corrupt politicians and wealthy landowners. So it's now that an unlikely rogue steps up to take that mantle. Nobody at Dick Turpin's execution in 1739, even the highwayman himself, would have predicted

that he would come to symbolize a rose-tinted vision of an entire criminal subclass. Ourskewed ideas of highwaymen owe much to a writer named William Ainsworth, who pulled Turpin's story from relative obscurity. Published in 1834, nearly a century after Turpin's execution, Ainsworth's novel Rookwood is an instant bestseller. But it's a secondary character that grabs the public's imagination. Dick Turpin, the dashing highwayman astride a jet black mare named Black Bess. Ainsworth blends real-life characters like Duval, Hind, and Swift Nix, conflating their best attributes and escapades into the fictional Dick Turpin. His epic ride north to York to

establish an alibi turns out to be the highlight of the novel. The character grabs public imagination. Soon afterwards, a fictional version of Turpin fronts another novel, further cementing the myths, which soon come to be regarded as historical fact. Social changes during the Victorian period improve both literacy rates and entertainment spending. Penny dreadfuls appear, cheap, mass-produced serials aimed at a young readership.

The first of these, in 1836, is entitled Lives of the Most Notorious High Women, and Turpin will appear in hundreds more. And the years don't dull the public's appetite for him. 1906 sees release of the silent film Dick Turpin's Ride to York, the first of very many films and TV versions of his story. What it comes down to is that humans love stories. I think the story is what defines being human. While there are people who are very happy to listen to sweet, moralistic stories, most want to hear sordid details.

They want to hear about adventure and people escaping by the skin of their teeth and undergoing arduous adventures. Great deeds of daring bravery, even if it's in the name of something terrible, such as a lethal robbery. lethal robbery. Today, the site of the Tyburn Tree, which saw the demise of many a highwayman, has become a traffic island on London's Edgware Road, its legs marked by three saplings. Dick Turpin himself is remembered on wall plaques in pubs from London to York. Tall tales told in coaching inns the length of the Great North Road commemorate his mythical ride, never mind that it's one which Turpin himself never undertook. Though some historical highwaymen are doubtless worth remembering for their deeds and adventures, the majority were common criminals and opportunists. Society, though, loves to

mythologize noble criminals and create folk heroes through ballads, books, and films. The true legacy of the highwayman are the thousands of ordinary people who are anxious to travel for fear of being terrorized, robbed, beaten, and even killed. But still, the allure of the Robin Hood archetype echoes alongside the enduring romance of the highwayman. Today, we might read a crime novel. We might watch a movie or a violent television series. And we can get quite upset and disgusted with some of that violence. In real life, that's no longer considered entertainment.

And we would actually be appalled to see it in reality. I think that entertainment values have changed. We need these rogues to be romantic heroes rather than the villains that they often were. If you enjoyed this episode on High Women, Noisa have a whole series retelling the stories of infamous outlaws in history, including Billy the Kid, Ned Kelly, the Cray Twins, and more. Search for Real Outlaws wherever you listen to podcasts or follow the link in the episode description. Next time on Short History Of, we'll bring you a short history of Winston Churchill.

The pubs all over Britain at nine o'clock would turn up the radio and people would all listen to his speeches. And of course, they are the most wonderful sort of Shakespearean language that has ever been used, essentially, in political speeches, at least in English. political speeches, at least in English. He was somebody who projected an image of defiance for the Nazis, which is something that an awful lot of people were desperate to see. I think overall, most people, not just Britons, but all around the world, recognised that the services he gave for the defence of freedom when it was under most vicious attack in all of history, that of Adolf Hitler and the Nazis, was so spectacular and so successful. That's next time.