WILLIAM GETTINGS.
William’s father was a grazier in Herefordshire, and he lived with him until he was sixteen years old, and then came up to London. Sometimes in the capacity of a footman, and sometimes in that of a butler, he spent five years in a very irreproachable manner. Unfortunately, however, he became acquainted with evil company, was soon corrupted in principles, and became a rogue in practice.
William Gettings robs a Gentleman in his own Garden
William Gettings robs a Gentleman in his own Garden.P. 176.
He began his course under the name of William Smith, and traded in the smaller matter of pilfering. In the dress of a porter he one evening went into the house of a doctor of medicine, took down a rich bed, and packed it up. In carrying it off he fell down stairs, and had almost broken his neck. The noise alarming the old doctor and his son, they came running to see what was the matter; whereupon Gettings, puffing and blowing as if he was quite out of breath, perceiving them nearer than they should be, said to the doctor, “Is not your name so and so?”—“Yes,” replied the doctor; “and what then?”—“Why, then, sir,” said Gettings, “there’s oneMr.Hugh Hen and Penhenribus has ordered me to bring these goods hither (which have almost broken my back,) and carry them away to a new lodging, which he has taken somewhere hereabouts.”—“Mr.Hugh Hen and Penhenribus!” replied the doctor again: “pray, who’s he? for, to the best of my knowledge, I don’t know such a gentleman.”—“I can’t tell,” said Gettings, “but, indeed, the gentleman knows you, and ordered me to leave the goods here.”“I don’t care,” said the doctor, “how well he knowsme! I tell you I’ll not take the people’s goods, unless they were here themselves; therefore, I say, carry them away!”—“Nay, pray sir,” said Gettings, “let me leave the goods here, for I am quite weary already in bringing them hither.”—“I tell you,” replied the doctor, “there shall none be left here; therefore take them away, or I’ll throw them into the street!”—“Well, well,” said Gettings, “I’ll take the goods away then; but I’m sure the gentleman will be very angry, because he ordered me to leave them here.”—“I don’t care,” replied the doctor, “for his anger, nor your’s either! I tell you, I’ll take no charge of other people’s goods, unless they are here themselves to put them into my custody!”—“Very well, sir,” said Gettings, “since I must carry them away, I beg the favor of you and the gentleman there to lift them on my back.”—“Ay, ay, with all my heart,” replied the doctor. “Come, son, and lend a hand to lift them on the fellow’s back.”
Scarcely was William gone, when the doctor’s wife coming home from the market, and going into the room, saw the bed taken down, and came running in a great passion to her husband, exclaiming, “Why, truly, this is a most strange business, that I can never stir out of doors, but you must be making some whimsical alteration or other in the house!”—“What’s the matter,” replied the doctor, “with the woman? Are you beside yourself?”—“No,” said the wife, “but truly you are, in thus altering things as you do, almost every moment!” “Certainly, my dear,” replied the doctor, “you must have been spending your market-penny, or else you would not talk at this rate, as you do, of alterations, when not the smallest have been made since you have gone out.”—“I am not blind, I think,” retorted the wife, “for I am sure the bed is taken out of the two-pair-of-stairs back room; and pray, husband, where do you design to put it now?” The doctor and his son then went up-stairs, and not only found that the bed was stolen, but that they had assisted the thief to carry it off.
Our hero next resolved to try his fortune upon thehighway, and meeting with a sharper on the road, commanded him to “stand and deliver!” He robbed him of two pence half-penny, when the sharper remarked, that “the world was come indeed to a very sad pass, when one rogue must prey upon another.”
He next robbed a man of twelve shillings and a pair of silver buckles. From thence he proceeded to rifle a stage-coach, and took away some money and a silver watch. Not long after, he robbedMr.Dashwood and his lady of a gold watch and money.
These, however, were only smaller exhibitions of his dexterity. One evening, well mounted, he passed through Richmond, and perceiving a gentleman walking in his gardens, inquired of the gardener if he might be permitted to view the gardens, of which he had heard so much.
The gardener, well acquainted with the harmless vanity and benevolence of his master, granted his request. Giving his horse to the gardener, Gettings walked forward, and in a very respectful manner accosted the gentleman, who received him very courteously; when, sitting down together in an arbor, Gettings said, “Your worship has got a fine diamond ring upon your finger.”—“Yes,” replied the owner, “it ought to be a very fine one, for it cost me a very fine price.”—“Why, then,” said Gettings, “it is the fitter to bestow on a friend; therefore, if your worship pleases, I must make bold to take it and wear it for your sake.” The gentleman stared at his impudence, but Gettings presenting a pistol, made a short process of the matter. Having taken the ring, the villain added, “I am sure you do not go without a good watch too.” Making free with that also, and some guineas, he bound the gentleman, and went off with his booty, after requesting him to be patient, and he would send some person to set him at liberty. When he came to the gate, he gave the gardener a shilling, informing him that Sir James wanted to speak to him. The botanical retainer accordingly went and untied his master, whowith a grim smile returned him thanks for sending a man into his own garden to rob him.
Upon another day, Gettings undertook a long journey, for the express purpose of robbing the house of a friend; and being well acquainted with all parts of the house, was successful, and brought off money, plate, and goods, to a considerable amount. He at last, in an unlucky moment, robbed aMr.Harrison of four guineas, some silver, and a watch; and being detected, was tried, condemned, and executed, on the 25th September, 1713, in the twenty-second year of his age.