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If distinction was not the heritage of the Eighteenth Century； its glory
is that now and again a giant raised his head above the stature of a
prevailing rectitude。 The art of verse was lost in rhetoric； the noble prose；
invented by the Elizabethans； and refined under the Stuarts； was whittled
away to common sense by the admirers of Addison and Steele。 Swift and
Johnson； Gibbon and Fielding； were apparitions of strength in an amiable；
ineffective age。 They emerged sudden from the impeccable greyness； to
which they afforded an heroic contrast。 So； while the highway drifted
drifted to a vulgar incompetence； the craft was illumined by many a flash
of unexpected genius。 The brilliant achievements of Jonathan Wild and
of Jack Sheppard might have relieved the gloom of the darkest era； and
their separate masterpieces make some atonement for the environing
cowardice and stupidity。 Above all； the Eighteenth Century was
Newgate's golden age； now for the first time and the last were the rules
and customs of the Jug perfectly understood。 If Jonathan the Great was
unrivalled in the art of clapping his enemies into prison； if Jack the Slip…
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A BOOK OF SCOUNDRELS
string was supreme in the rarer art of getting himself out； even the meanest
criminal of his time knew what was expected of him； so long as he
wandered within the walled yard； or listened to the ministrations of the
snuff…besmirched Ordinary。 He might show a lamentable lack of
cleverness in carrying off his booty； he might prove a too easy victim to
the wiles of the thief…catcher； but he never fell short of courage； when
asked to sustain the consequences of his crime。
Newgate； compared by one eminent author to a university； by another
to a ship； was a republic； whose liberty extended only so far as its iron
door。 While there was no liberty without； there was licence within； and if
the culprit； who paid for the smallest indiscretion with his neck；
understood the etiquette of the place； he spent his last weeks in an orgie of
rollicking lawlessness。 He drank； he ate； he diced； he received his
friends； or chaffed the Ordinary； he attempted； through the well… paid
cunning of the Clerk； to bribe the jury； and when every artifice had failed
he went to Tyburn like a man。 If he knew not how to live； at least he
would show a resentful world how to die。
‘In no country；' wrote Sir T。 Smith； a distinguished lawyer of the time；
‘do malefactors go to execution more intrepidly than in England'； and
assuredly； buoyed up by custom and the approval of their fellows； Wild's
victims made a brave show at the gallows。 Nor was their bravery the
result of a common callousness。 They understood at once the humour
and the delicacy of the situation。 Though hitherto they had chaffed the
Ordinary； they now listened to his exhortation with at least a semblance of
respect； and though their last night upon earth might have been devoted to
a joyous company； they did not withhold their ear from the Bellman's
Chant。 As twelve o'clock approachedtheir last midnight upon earth
they would interrupt the most spirited discourse； they would check the tour
of the mellowest bottle to listen to the solemn doggerel。 ‘All you that in
the condemn'd hole do lie；' groaned the Bellman of St。 Sepulchre's in his
duskiest voice； and they who held revel in the condemned hole prayed
silence of their friends for the familiar cadences：
All you that in the condemn'd hole do lie； Prepare you； for to…morrow
you shall die； Watch all and pray； the hour is drawing near； That you
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A BOOK OF SCOUNDRELS
before th' Almighty must appear。 Examine well yourselves； in time repent
That you may not t' eternal flames be sent； And when St。 Pulchre's bell to…
morrow tolls； The Lord above have mercy on your souls。
Past twelve o'clock！
Even if this warning voice struck a momentary terror into their
offending souls； they were up betimes in the morning； eager to pay their
final debt。 Their journey from Newgate to Tyburn was a triumph； and
their vanity was unabashed at the droning menaces of the Ordinary。 At
one point a chorus of maidens cast wreaths upon their way； or pinned
nosegays in their coats； that they might not face the executioner unadorned。
At the Crown Tavern they quaffed their last glass of ale； and told the
landlord with many a leer and smirk that they would pay him on their way
back。 Though gravity was asked； it was not always given； but in the
Eighteenth Century courage was seldom wanting。 To the common
citizen a violent death was （and is） the worst of horrors； to the ancient
highwayman it was the odd trick lost in the game of life。 And the
highwayman endured the rope； as the practised gambler loses his estate；
without blenching。 One there was； who felt his leg tremble in his own
despite： wherefore he stamped it upon the ground so violently； that in
other circumstances he would have roared with pain； and he left the world
without a tremor。 In this spirit Cranmer burnt his recreant right hand； and
in either case the glamour of a unique occasion was a stimulus to courage。
But not even this brilliant treatment of accessories availed to save the
highway from disrepute； indeed； it had become the profitless pursuit of
braggarts and loafers； long before the abolition of the stage…coach
destroyed its opportunity。 In the meantime； however； the pickpocket was
master of his trade。 His strategy was perfect； his sleight of hand as
delicate as long； lithe fingers and nimble brains could make it。 He had
discarded for ever those clumsy instruments whose use had barred the
progress of the Primitives。 The breast…pocket behind the tightest
buttoned coat presented no difficulty to his love of research； and he would
penetrate the stoutest frieze or the lightest satin； as easily as Jack Sheppard
made a hole through Newgate。 His trick of robbery was so simple and
yet so successful； that ever since it has remained a tradition。 The
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A BOOK OF SCOUNDRELS
collision； the victim's murmured apology； the hasty scuffle； the booty
handed to the aide…de…camp； who is out of sight before the hue and cry can
be raisedsuch was the policy advocated two hundred years ago； such is
the policy pursued to day by the few artists that remain。
Throughout the eighteenth century the art of cly…faking held its own；
though its reputation paled in the glamour of the highway。 It culminated
in George Barrington； whose vivid genius persuaded him to work alone
and to carry off his own booty； it still flourished （in a silver age） when the
incomparable Haggart performed his prodigies of skill； even in our prosaic
time some flashes of the ancient glory have been seen。 Now and again
circumstances have driven it into eclipse。 When the facile sentiment of