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and the chap…books of the time may not be credited with this vulgar error。
Perhaps it was the popular drama of Skelt which put the ruffian upon the
black mare's back； but whatever the date of the invention； Turpin was a
popular hero long before Ainsworth sent him rattling across England。
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A BOOK OF SCOUNDRELS
And in order to equip this butcher with a false reputation； a valiant officer
and gentleman was stripped of the credit due to a magnificent achievement。
For though Turpin tramped to York at a journeyman's leisure； Nicks rode
thither at a stretchNicks the intrepid and gallant； whom Charles II。； in
admiration of his feat； was wont to call Swiftnicks。
This valiant collector； whom posterity has robbed for Turpin's
embellishment； lived at the highest moment of his art。 He knew by rote
the lessons taught by Hind and Duval； he was a fearless rider and a
courteous thief。 Now； one morning at five of the clock； he robbed a
gentleman near Barnet of 560； and riding straight for York； he
appeared on the Bowling Green at six in the evening。 Being presently
recognised by his victim； he was apprehended； and at the trial which
followed he pleaded a triumphant alibi。 But vanity was too strong for
discretion； and no sooner was Swiftnicks out of danger； than he boasted； as
well he might； of his splendid courage。 Forthwith he appeared a popular
hero； obtained a commission in Lord Moncastle's regiment； and married a
fortune。 And then came Turpin to filch his glory！ Nor need Turpin
have stooped to a vicarious notoriety； for he possessed a certain rough；
half conscious humour； which was not despicable。 He purchased a new
fustian coat and a pair of pumps； in which to be hanged； and he hired five
poor men at ten shillings the day； that his death might not go unmourned。
Above all； he was distinguished in prison。 A crowd thronged his cell to
identify him； and one there was who offered to bet the keeper half a guinea
that the prisoner was not Turpin； whereupon Turpin whispered the keeper；
‘Lay him the wager； you fool； and I will go you halves。' Surely this
impudent indifference might have kept green the memory of the man who
never rode to York！
If the Scoundrel may claim distinction on many grounds； his character
is singularly uniform。 To the anthropologist he might well appear the
survival of a savage race； and savage also are his manifold superstitions。
He is a creature of times and seasons。 He chooses the occasion of his
deeds with as scrupulous a care as he examines his formidable crowbars
and jemmies。 At certain hours he would refrain from action； though
every circumstance favoured his success： he would rather obey the
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A BOOK OF SCOUNDRELS
restraining voice of a wise； unreasoning wizardry； than fill his pockets
with the gold for which his human soul is ever hungry。 There is no law
of man he dares not break but he shrinks in horror from the infringement
of the unwritten rules of savagery。 Though he might cut a throat in self…
defence； he would never walk under a ladder； and if the 13th fell on a
Friday； he would starve that day rather than obtain a loaf by the method he
best understands。 He consults the omens with as patient a divination as
the augurs of old； and so long as he carries an amulet in his pocket； though
it be but a pebble or a polished nut； he is filled with an irresistible courage。
For him the worst terror of all is the evil eye； and he would rather be
hanged by an unsuspected judge than receive an easy stretch from one
whose glance he dared not face。 And while the anthropologist claims
him for a savage； whose civilisation has been arrested at brotherhood with
the Solomon Islanders； the politician might pronounce him a true
communist； in that he has preserved a wholesome contempt of property
and civic life。 The pedant； again； would feel his bumps； prescribe a
gentle course of bromide； and hope to cure all the sins of the world by a
municipal Turkish bath。 The wise man； respecting his superstitions； is
content to take him as he finds him； and to deduce his character from his
very candid history； which is unaffected by pedant or politician。
Before all things； he is sanguine； he believes that Chance； the great
god of his endeavour； fights upon his side。 Whatever is lacking to…day；
to…morrow's enterprise will fulfil； and if only the omens be favourable； he
fears neither detection nor the gallows。 His courage proceeds from this
sanguine temperament； strengthened by shame and tradition rather than
from a self… controlled magnanimity； he hopes until despair is inevitable；
and then walks firmly to the gallows； that no comrade may suspect the
white feather。 His ambition； too； is the ambition of the savage or of the
child； he despises such immaterial advantages as power and influence；
being perfectly content if he have a smart coat on his back and a bottle of
wine at his elbow。 He would rather pick a lock than batter a constitution；
and the world would be well lost； if he and his doxy might survey the ruin
in comfort。
But if his ambition be modest； his love of notoriety is boundless。 He
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must be famous； his name must be in the mouths of men； he must be
immortal （for a week） in a rough woodcut。 And then； what matters it
how soon the end？ His braveries have been hawked in the street； his
prowess has sold a Special Edition； he is the first of his race； until a
luckier rival eclipses him。 Thus； also； his dandyism is inevitable： it is not
enough for him to cover his nakednesshe must dress； and though his
taste is sometimes unbridled； it is never insignificant。 Indeed； his
biographers have recorded the expression of his fancy in coats and small…
clothes as patiently and enthusiastically as they have applauded his
courage。 And truly the love of magnificence； which he shares with all
artists； is sincere and characteristic。 When an accomplice of Jonathan
Wild's robbed Lady Mn at Windsor； his equipage cost him forty pounds；
and Nan Hereford was arrested for shoplifting at the very moment that
four footmen awaited her return with an elegant sedan…chair。
His vanity makes him but a prudish lover； who desires to woo less than
to be wooed； and at all times and through all moods he remains the
primeval sentimentalist。 He will detach his life entirely from the
catchwords which pretend to govern his actions； he will sit and croon the
most heartrending ditties in celebration of home…life and a mother's love；
and then set forth incontinently upon a well…planned errand of plunder。
For all his artistry； he lacks balance as flagrantly as a popular politician or
an advanced journalist。 Therefore it is the more remarkable that in one
point he displays a certain caution： he boggles