WHITNEY.
This notorious malefactor was born at Stevenage in Hertfordshire, and served an apprenticeship to a butcher. He often mentioned that he was happily disappointed in his first attempt to steal.
He and his master went to Romford to purchase calves, and there was an excellent one that they would fain have had in their possession, but the owner and they could not agree about the price. As the owner of the calf kept an alehouse, they went in to taste his ale. While they were enjoying themselves, but lamenting the loss of the calf, Whitney whispered to his master, that it would be foolish in them to give money for the calf, when they might have it for nothing. The good butcher understood his meaning and entered into his plan. In the mean while they sat still drinking, waiting their opportunity.
Whitney and the Bear
Whitney and the Bear.P. 134.
Unfortunately for their scheme, a fellow who travelled the country with a she-bear, had put up at the house where the butchers were drinking. The landlordhad no place to put up this bear without removing the calf to another house, which was accordingly done. The butchers continued carousing until it was dark, then having cheerfully paid their reckoning, in the hope that the calf would reimburse them, they left the house, and lurked about the fields until all was quiet. Approaching the place where they had seen the calf put up, Whitney was sent in to fetch it out. The bear was resting her wearied limbs when Whitney took hold of them, and was astonished to find the hair of the calf had suddenly grown to such a length. Bruin arose upon all-fours, opining, we suppose, that it was her master about to show her in his usual manner. But she no sooner discovered that it was a stranger who thus rudely assailed her, than she seized him with her two fore-paws and hugged him most lovingly to her bosom. The master, surprised that he was so long in bringing out the calf, began to chide him for his delay. Whitney cried out, that he could not get away himself, and he believed that the devil had hold of him. “If it is the old boy,” replied the master, “bring him out, as I should like to see what kind of an animal he is.” His importunities at length brought the butcher to his assistance, when they discovered their mistake, and with no small difficulty disentangled Whitney from the fraternal hug of honest bruin; which having done, they proceeded home without their prey, determined to attempt stealing calves no more.
Our young adventurer now abandoned the business of buying and slaying animals, and took the George inn at Cheshunt. In order to make the most of it, he entertained all sorts of people, whether good or bad. Disappointment attended him in this as well as his former employment, and he was constrained to shut up his doors.
He now went up to London, the common haunt of all profligates, where he lived in the most irregular manner, giving himself wholly up to villany. After practising the tricks of sharpers for a time, he at length commenced business upon the highway. He was oneday standing at the door of a mercer’s shop, when two young ladies, apparently of fashion, passed by, elegantly dressed, one of whom inquired if he had any silks of the newest patterns. Whitney replied, that he had none at present, but should soon have some home from the weaver. He then requested their address, that the goods, when they came to hand, might be sent to them. They were rather at a loss; one of them, however, answered, that they were only lately come to town, and did not remember the name of their street. They added, that, as it was not far off, if he would accompany them, they would show him their habitation.
This was just what he wanted; therefore, going into the shop, as if to leave orders, he hastened along with the ladies—they supposing he was the silk-mercer, and he that they were actually ladies of fortune, whom he might have an opportunity of robbing, either presently or at some future period. Upon their arrival he was introduced into an elegant parlor, and a collation placed upon the table, with some excellent wine, of which he was requested to partake. He was soon left alone with one of the ladies, and discovering his mistake, was resolved to have some more sport at the expense of a silk-mercer, since he had been taken for one.
Whitney went to a mercer, and mentioning the name of a lady of quality in the neighborhood, said he had been sent by her to request that the mercer would send one of his men with several pieces of his best silks, as the lady was to purchase a gown and petticoat. The shopkeeper readily consented, and one of the apprentices was despatched along with him. To deceive the young man, and render it impossible for him to discover the place where he should stop, he conducted him through various streets and lanes, until he at last halted at a house which had an entry into another street; here he took the parcel, and desired the lad to stand at the door while he went in to show the ladies the silks. Taking the parcel, he went in, and inquired for someperson who he was certain was not there. He then requested liberty to pass through to the next street, which would shorten his way. This being granted, he left the mercer’s man to wait for his return.
Having thus fortunately succeeded, and been able to fulfil his promise of giving one of the above-mentioned ladies a silk dress, he hastened to their dwelling, where they divided the spoil. For some days he remained there, indulging in all manner of riot and excess, until, satiated, he returned to his labor of seeking new adventures. Determined, however, that no other person but himself should reap the fruits of his ingenuity, he wrote a letter to the mercer, informing him where he would find his silks. Accordingly, having obtained a warrant, the house of the two damsels was searched, the pieces found, and both the ladies were sentenced to Bridewell to undergo whipping, and to submit to hard labor.
When Whitney was confirmed in his business, he met a gentleman on Bagshot heath, whom he commanded to stand and deliver: on which the other remarked, “It is well you spoke first, sir, for I was just going to make a similar demand.” “Why, then, you are a gentleman-thief?” Whitney cried. “Yes,” said the stranger, “but I have had very bad success to-day, for I have been riding up and down all this morning without meeting with any prize.” Whitney upon this wished him better luck, and took his leave.
At night Whitney and the above gentleman put up at the same inn, when the latter related to some other travellers by what stratagem he had evaded being robbed on the road. Whitney having changed his dress, the gentleman did not recognise him. Whitney also heard him whisper to one of the company, that by this contrivance he had saved a hundred pounds. That person informed him, that he had a considerable sum upon him, and that, if agreeable, he would travel next day with him. Our adventurer overheard the conversation, and resolved, without being solicited, to make one of the party. In the morning they commencedtheir journey, and Whitney followed about a quarter of an hour after. Their conversation turned upon the best means to deceive the highwaymen; and our adventurer’s meditations were, how he should be revenged upon his quondam friend for the cheat he had received the day before.
Whitney soon overtook them, and riding before, turned suddenly about, presented his pistols, and commanded them to stand and deliver. “We were going to say the same to you, sir!” “Were you so?” replied our hero, “and are you then of my profession?” “Yes,” said they both. “If you are, I suppose you remember the old proverb, that two of a profession cannot agree together, so that you must not expect any favor on that score. But to be plain with you, gentlemen, I know you very well, and must have your hundred pounds, sir,—and your considerable sum, sir,”—turning first to the one, and then to the other,—“otherwise I shall be bold to send a brace of bullets through each of your heads. You, Messieurs Highwaymen, should have kept your secret a little longer, and not have boasted so soon of having outwitted a thief. There is now nothing for you but to deliver or die!” These words put them in a sad consternation: they were very unwilling to lose their money, but more unwilling to lose their lives; of two evils, therefore, they preferred choosing the least. The one produced his hundred pounds first, and the other gentleman his considerable sum, which was a good deal more.
At another time, our adventurer met with an old miser named Hull, on Hounslow Heath. The word of command being given, he trembled in every joint, and using the most piteous tones and humiliating complaints, said that he was a very poor man and had a large family, and he would be hard-hearted indeed who would take his money. He added, besides, a great deal more concerning the illegality of such an action, and how dangerous it was to engage in evil courses. Whitney, who knew him well, cried out in a violent passion, “Sirrah, you pretend to preach morality to anhonester man than yourself. Is it not more generous to take a man’s money from him bravely, than to grind him to death by exacting eight or ten per cent. under cover of serving him? You make a prey of all mankind, and necessity in an honest man is often the means of his falling into your hands, who are sure to be the means of undoing him. I am a man of more honor than to show any compassion to one whom I esteem an enemy to the whole species. For once, at least, I shall oblige you to lend me what you have, without interest or bond, so make no words!” Old Hull, upon this, reluctantly pulled out eighteen pounds, telling him at the same time that he would see him some time ride up Holborn hill backwards. Whitney was retiring until he heard these words, when, returning, he drew Hull off his horse, and putting him on again with his face towards the tail, and tying his legs, “Now,” said he, “you old rogue, let me see what a figure a man makes when he rides backwards, and let me have the pleasure at least of seeing you first in that posture:” so giving the horse a whip, the animal proceeded at a desperate pace until it came to Hounslow Town, where the people untied him, after they had enjoyed themselves at his expense.
In the course of Whitney’s rambles, he one day put up at an inn in Doncaster, and lived in a dashing style, as he had then plenty of money. He was informed that the landlord was a complete miser and sharper, and that he would not spare the smallest sum to a poor relation of his, who lived in the neighborhood. Accordingly, Whitney resolved to exert his ingenuity upon his landlord; and gave out that he had a good estate, and travelled merely for his own amusement. He continued to pay his bills regularly, until he supposed that his credit would be sufficiently established. Then he one day mentioned to his landlord, that as his money was run short, he would be obliged to him for credit until he received remittances. “Oh, dear sir, you need not give yourself any uneasiness about such a thing as this; every thing in my house is at yourservice; and I shall think myself honored if you use me as your friend.” With abundance of eloquence, our adventurer returned the compliment. He continued to live at his table,—his horse was well fed with corn and hay, while Whitney, almost every day, took a ride to some neighboring village along with the landlord and some others, who were all proud of the honor he had done them.
It happened that there was an annual fair in that place, and in the morning a box came directed to him; opening it, he took out a letter, and, having read it, locked the box, and delivered it to the landlady, saying, that it would be safer in her custody than in his own. Having gone to see the fair, he returned in great haste in the afternoon, desiring his horse to be instantly dressed, as he had seen a horse in the fair for which he was desirous to exchange his own, adding, that he was determined to have the animal. He then requested the landlady to give him his box; but he was informed that she was gone to the fair. Hereupon he affected to burst out into a violent passion, saying, that he supposed she had locked up what he committed to her keeping:—“If she has,” said he, “I had rather have given ten guineas, for I have no money but what is in her possession.” Inquiry was made, and it was found to be as he had said, which put him into a still greater rage. This was, however, what he both wished and expected,—the whole being of his own invention. The landlord was informed of his rage, and the cause of it, and entreated that he would be easy, as he would lend him the sum he wanted until his wife came home. Our hero was greatly distressed that he should have to borrow money when he had so much of his own; but as there was no other method of obtaining cash to purchase his favorite horse, he accepted of the proffered loan: with an imperious and haughty air, demanding that his bill might be prepared for payment forthwith.
With forty guineas he rode to the fair; but instead of inquiring for any other horse, he spurred his own through the crowd, and hastened to London. Thepeople of the inn waited long for his return that evening; but, as he had frequently stayed two or three days at once in his rambles through the country, they suspected no fraud. After waiting with no small impatience for a whole week, the landlord resolved to break open the box, and went to the magistrates of the place, accompanied by witnesses. It is needless to record his chagrin and mortification, when he found the box filled with sand and stones.
In London, Whitney was apprehended upon the information of one of those abandoned females who live by betraying the simple ones of their own, and by robbing and plundering the profligate of the other sex. He was committed, tried, and condemned at the following sessions. The judge, before passing sentence, made an excellent speech to him and the other malefactors, in strong terms exhibiting the nature of their several crimes; and in particular addressed himself to Whitney, exhorting him to a sincere repentance, as there could be no hope of a pardon to him after a course of so many villanies.
At the place of execution, Whitney addressed the multitude in nearly the following terms:—“I have been a great offender, both against God and my country, by transgressing all laws, both human and divine. I believe there is not one here present but has often heard my name before my confinement, and seen the long catalogue of my crimes, which have since been made public. Why then should I pretend to vindicate a life stained with so many enormous deeds? The sentence passed upon me is just, and I can see the footsteps of a Providence, which, before, I had profanely laughed at, in my apprehension and conviction. I hope the sense which I have of these things has enabled me to make my peace with Heaven, the only thing which is now of any concern to me. Join in your prayers with me, my dear countrymen, that God would not forsake me in my last moments.” Having spent a few minutes in prayer, he suffered, in the thirty-fourth year of his age, on the 19th of December 1694.