Dick Turpin

1705 (age 34)

Hempstead, England, United Kingdom

Turpin most likely became involved with the Essex gang of deer thieves in the early 1730s. Turpin and his gang invaded isolated farmhouses, terrorizing and torturing the female occupants into giving up their valuables. A typical attack took place at Loughton, in Essex, where Turpin heard of an old widow woman rumoured to keep at least £700 in the house. When the woman gamely resisted all of Turpin’s efforts to discover the money’s hiding place, he hoisted her into the open fire until she gave up her treasure. Robbing remote farmhouses was the Gang’s speciality, and it was only towards the end of his criminal career that Turpin was actually involved in highway robbery. Flushed with success-and money-Turpin and his mates proceeded to rob their way around the Home Counties, frequently employing torture as a weapon of persuasion. By 1735, the London Evening Post regularly reported the exploits of Turpin and ‘The Essex Gang’ and the King had offered a reward of £50 for their capture. Eventually, local constables captured two of the gang, Turpin himself narrowly missing capture by bursting out a window. Turpin headed back into the familiar East Anglian countryside and lived rough for some time, until he began working with ‘Captain’ Tom King, one of the best-known highwaymen of the day and the kind of swashbuckling, devil-may-care character into which legend would later transform Turpin. From a cave in Epping Forest from which they could watch the road without being seen, they robbed virtually anyone who passed their hiding place. Even local peddlers started to carry weapons for protection. By 1737, Turpin had achieved such notoriety that another bounty of £100 was placed on his head- a reward that unwittingly transformed him from a common footpad into a murderer. On 4th May, 1737, a gamekeeper named Morris tracked Turpin to Epping Forest, but when he challenged him at gunpoint, Turpin drew his own gun and shot Morris dead. Turpin headed back into the familiar East Anglian countryside and lived rough for some time, until he began working with ‘Captain’ Tom King, one of the best-known highwaymen of the day and the kind of swashbuckling, devil-may-care character into which legend would later transform Turpin. From a cave in Epping Forest from which they could watch the road without being seen, they robbed virtually anyone who passed their hiding place. Even local peddlers started to carry weapons for protection. By 1737, Turpin had achieved such notoriety that another bounty of £100 was placed on his head- a reward that unwittingly transformed him from a common footpad into a murderer. On 4th May, 1737, a gamekeeper named Morris tracked Turpin to Epping Forest, but when he challenged him at gunpoint, Turpin drew his own gun and shot Morris dead. The fugitive’s next exploit was nothing less than bizarre. One night, while on the road to London, he took a fancy to a particularly fine horse ridden by a man called Major and forced him to exchange it for his own jaded mount. Mr. Major didn’t take the loss lying down. He issued handbills around the pubs of London, describing the horse and naming Turpin as the thief. The horse was traced to the Red Lion pub in Whitechapel, where Turpin had stabled it. When Tom King came to collect the horse, he was arrested. Turpin, who had been waiting nearby, rode toward the constables holding King and fired at them. Unfortunately, he was a dreadful shot, and the bullets hit King rather than his captors. Before he died, King provided the constables with sufficient information to force Turpin to again live rough in Epping Forest. Realizing that he could not long escape capture if he remained in the London area, Turpin set off for Yorkshire. , where he settled under the name of John Palmer, financing his fancy lifestyle with frequent excursions into Lincolnshire for more horse and cattle rustling and the occasional highway robbery. One day, returning from an unsuccessful hunt he shot his landlord’s rooster. When the landlord complained he threatened to kill the landlord as well. He was taken into custody while local authorities made enquiries as to how exactly ‘Mr. Palmer’ made his money, and inevitably the constables learned of several outstanding complaints made against ‘John Palmer’ for sheep and horse stealing in Lincolnshire. Turpin waited in the dungeons of York Castle while these charges were investigated, but even then things might not have gone too badly for him if he hadn’t written a letter to his brother, requesting him to ‘procure an evidence from London that could give me a character that would go a great way towards my being acquitted. ’ Unfortunately for Turpin, his brother was too mean to pay the sixpence postage due and so returned the letter to the Post Office. There, by a great coincidence, Turpin’s former schoolmaster, Mr. Smith, saw it and recognized the handwriting. He took the letter to the local magistrate and, with his permission, opened it. Despite the fact that it was signed John Palmer, Smith identified the writer as Turpin. Smith was subsequently dispatched to York to make positive identification; which he did. Convicted on two indictments, Turpin was sentenced to death. Pleas from his father to have the sentence commuted to transportation fell on deaf ears. Between his sentence and execution, visitors frequented Turpin’s cell. He bought new clothes and shoes and hired five mourners for 10 shillings each. On 7th April, 1739, Dick Turpin rode through the streets of York in an open cart, bowing to the gawking crowds. At York racecourse he climbed the ladder to the gibbet and then sat for half an hour chatting to the guards and the executioner. An account in the York Courant of Turpin’s execution, notes his brashness even at the end, “with undaunted courage looked about him, and after speaking a few words to the topsman, he threw himself off the ladder and expired in about five minutes. ” Thus in death at least, Turpin attained some of the gallantry that had eluded him in life.

Dick Turpin

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also known as Richard Turpin

highwayman robber

Background

Richard Turpin was born in Hempstead, Essex, the fifth of six children to John Turpin and Mary Elizabeth Parmenter. He was baptised on 21 September 1705, in the same parish where his parents had been married more than ten years earlier.

Education

He was apprenticed to a butcher, but, having been detected at cattle-stealing, joined a notorious gang of deer-stealers and smugglers in Essex.

Career

Turpin most likely became involved with the Essex gang of deer thieves in the early 1730s. Turpin and his gang invaded isolated farmhouses, terrorizing and torturing the female occupants into giving up their valuables. A typical attack took place at Loughton, in Essex, where Turpin heard of an old widow woman rumoured to keep at least £700 in the house. When the woman gamely resisted all of Turpin’s efforts to discover the money’s hiding place, he hoisted her into the open fire until she gave up her treasure. Robbing remote farmhouses was the Gang’s speciality, and it was only towards the end of his criminal career that Turpin was actually involved in highway robbery.

Flushed with success-and money-Turpin and his mates proceeded to rob their way around the Home Counties, frequently employing torture as a weapon of persuasion. By 1735, the London Evening Post regularly reported the exploits of Turpin and ‘The Essex Gang’ and the King had offered a reward of £50 for their capture. Eventually, local constables captured two of the gang, Turpin himself narrowly missing capture by bursting out a window.

Turpin headed back into the familiar East Anglian countryside and lived rough for some time, until he began working with ‘Captain’ Tom King, one of the best-known highwaymen of the day and the kind of swashbuckling, devil-may-care character into which legend would later transform Turpin. From a cave in Epping Forest from which they could watch the road without being seen, they robbed virtually anyone who passed their hiding place. Even local peddlers started to carry weapons for protection. By 1737, Turpin had achieved such notoriety that another bounty of £100 was placed on his head- a reward that unwittingly transformed him from a common footpad into a murderer. On 4th May, 1737, a gamekeeper named Morris tracked Turpin to Epping Forest, but when he challenged him at gunpoint, Turpin drew his own gun and shot Morris dead.

Turpin headed back into the familiar East Anglian countryside and lived rough for some time, until he began working with ‘Captain’ Tom King, one of the best-known highwaymen of the day and the kind of swashbuckling, devil-may-care character into which legend would later transform Turpin. From a cave in Epping Forest from which they could watch the road without being seen, they robbed virtually anyone who passed their hiding place. Even local peddlers started to carry weapons for protection. By 1737, Turpin had achieved such notoriety that another bounty of £100 was placed on his head- a reward that unwittingly transformed him from a common footpad into a murderer. On 4th May, 1737, a gamekeeper named Morris tracked Turpin to Epping Forest, but when he challenged him at gunpoint, Turpin drew his own gun and shot Morris dead.

The fugitive’s next exploit was nothing less than bizarre. One night, while on the road to London, he took a fancy to a particularly fine horse ridden by a man called Major and forced him to exchange it for his own jaded mount. Mr. Major didn’t take the loss lying down. He issued handbills around the pubs of London, describing the horse and naming Turpin as the thief. The horse was traced to the Red Lion pub in Whitechapel, where Turpin had stabled it. When Tom King came to collect the horse, he was arrested. Turpin, who had been waiting nearby, rode toward the constables holding King and fired at them. Unfortunately, he was a dreadful shot, and the bullets hit King rather than his captors.

Before he died, King provided the constables with sufficient information to force Turpin to again live rough in Epping Forest. Realizing that he could not long escape capture if he remained in the London area, Turpin set off for Yorkshire. , where he settled under the name of John Palmer, financing his fancy lifestyle with frequent excursions into Lincolnshire for more horse and cattle rustling and the occasional highway robbery. One day, returning from an unsuccessful hunt he shot his landlord’s rooster. When the landlord complained he threatened to kill the landlord as well. He was taken into custody while local authorities made enquiries as to how exactly ‘Mr. Palmer’ made his money, and inevitably the constables learned of several outstanding complaints made against ‘John Palmer’ for sheep and horse stealing in Lincolnshire. Turpin waited in the dungeons of York Castle while these charges were investigated, but even then things might not have gone too badly for him if he hadn’t written a letter to his brother, requesting him to ‘procure an evidence from London that could give me a character that would go a great way towards my being acquitted. ’

Unfortunately for Turpin, his brother was too mean to pay the sixpence postage due and so returned the letter to the Post Office. There, by a great coincidence, Turpin’s former schoolmaster, Mr. Smith, saw it and recognized the handwriting. He took the letter to the local magistrate and, with his permission, opened it. Despite the fact that it was signed John Palmer, Smith identified the writer as Turpin. Smith was subsequently dispatched to York to make positive identification; which he did.

Convicted on two indictments, Turpin was sentenced to death. Pleas from his father to have the sentence commuted to transportation fell on deaf ears. Between his sentence and execution, visitors frequented Turpin’s cell. He bought new clothes and shoes and hired five mourners for 10 shillings each. On 7th April, 1739, Dick Turpin rode through the streets of York in an open cart, bowing to the gawking crowds. At York racecourse he climbed the ladder to the gibbet and then sat for half an hour chatting to the guards and the executioner. An account in the York Courant of Turpin’s execution, notes his brashness even at the end, “with undaunted courage looked about him, and after speaking a few words to the topsman, he threw himself off the ladder and expired in about five minutes. ” Thus in death at least, Turpin attained some of the gallantry that had eluded him in life.

Achievements

Turpin became the subject of legend after his execution, romanticised as dashing and heroic in English ballads and popular theatre of the 18th and 19th centuries and in film and television of the 20th century. In a novel by William Harrison Ainsworth, a Victorian novelist, called Rookwood Dick, Turpin was portrayed as a hero, when he was, in reality, a vicious criminal.

Membership

Dick Turpin became a member of the Essex Gang, a group of criminals who specialised in robbing farmhouses.

Connections

Father:: John Turpin
Mother:: Mary Elizabeth Parmenter
Wife:: Elizabeth Millington

References

Rookwood

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