Why does the notorious highwayman Dick Turpin have such an extraordinary reputation today? How come his criminal career has inspired a profusion of often misleading literature and film? This eighteenth-century villain is often portrayed as a hero – dashing, sinister, romantic, daring, a Robin Hood of his times. The reality, as Jonathan Oates reveals in this perceptive, carefully researched study, was radically different. He was a robber, torturer and killer, a gangster whose posthumous reputation has eclipsed the truth about his life. In the early 1700s Turpin progressed from butcher’s apprentice and poacher to become a member of the Gregory gang which terrorized householders around London by robbery and violence. Then came his two-year career as a highwayman robbing travelers, his partnership with Matthew King whom he may have killed in Whitechapel, his murder Thomas Morris in Epping Forest, and his eventual capture and execution. Jonathan Oates recounts the episodes in Turpin’s short, brutal life in dramatic detail, basing his narrative on contemporary sources – trial records and newspapers in particular – and he traces the development of the Turpin legend over 250 years through novels, ballads, plays, television and film. The Dick Turpin who emerges from this rigorous and scholarly biography is in many ways a more interesting man than the legend suggests.

This historic book may have numerous typos and missing text. Purchasers can usually download a free scanned copy of the original book (without typos) from the publisher. Not indexed. Not illustrated. 1840 edition. Excerpt: ...grieve about that 'ere, neyther. Ould Gilly told me, this very day as gone, as Sheepshanks called on 'un, and dravred 'un o' forty pound, and as he wor main pressin', too. A' told 'un as the Baronet wor goin' to take 'un wi' him on a job as wor o' main weight, an' that he might tell 'un in confidence, as he mun ha' the money out o' hand; for it wor a great lawsuit, or summut o' the sort. He told 'un too, as he wor goin' off ther very morrow as ever is." " Maybe; observed a gamekeeper; " for Job Tyler have been all day up at Western, putting a chain and doing odd jobs to the travelling coach." The conversation changed; and after staying another hour, Turpin and his companion left. Their consultation was long on the impertant information they had thus acquired. They had arrived at the spot where they usually dismounted, and looking along the road lest they might be observed, were about to lead their horses into the wood, when they heard the distant clatter of horse's feet approaching them. " Shall we mount?" asked Ki ng. " Yes," replied Dick, " and ride a little distance from this spot at any rate. It may be game," added he, examining his holsters. They rode slowly on: the horseman gained upon them; and the companion! drew up between some trees at the road-side. The traveller came on--he had certainly seen them, for the road was level--and on Hearing the spot, slackened his speed. The night was clear; and as he approached, both King and Turpin together recognised their old friend George Fielder. Their greeting was hearty; and after some conference between King and Turpin, they-resolved to make him a sharer in the adventure' already resolved on. The residence of Octavius Sheepshanks, Gent., one, &c., was one of three brick residences with...

The true story of the highwaymen has never been written, nor can it be. The chroniclers were slavishly faithful to their authorities—flatteringly so, in fact; for these authorities consisted of a lot of chapbooks, broadsheets, penny dreadfuls and twopenny bloods, “dying confessions” that had come in for a good deal of posthumous editing, and the contemporary gutter Press—which was even more unreliable then than it is today. Many of these ‘authorities’ were so contradictory that the truth-at-all-costs chroniclers left out some of the best bits of highway lore in their vain attempts to keep faithful to their ridiculous principles. Our own ambition is more modest. We have not sought the El Dorado of absolute truth. We have gone back to the same sources that the chroniclers used—and we have taken pains to ignore the latter gentlemen whenever contemporary reports are still extant. We have not moralized, like the chroniclers, nor have we embellished, like the novelists. We have added nothing—but we have taken away a good deal. We have tried to use our discretion in selection, and our judgment in discrimination between contradictory versions of the same events. Since it was impossible to be faithful to the letter, we have tried to recapture the spirit of the Age of Highwaymen.

Almost everything people know about Dick Turpin and highwaymen is myth. The historical truth is much nastier, more brutal and bloody. As Dick Turpin went to the scaffold in York in 1739 he was determined to look his best. The previous day he had had a new frock coat and pumps delivered to him in the condemned man's cell in York Castle Prison. And he paid £3 and 10 shillings for five men to act as mourners. Who was this notorious highwayman and why did he become so famous? What did he do to become the subject of such extraordinary myths? Most of all, why are highwaymen romantic figures? We have highwayman now: we call them muggers and car-jackers and we don't sing ballads about them or eulogise them for their brave exploits. This is a masterly biography of one of Britain's best-known criminals - but it is also an examination of the cult of the highwayman, of crime in the 18th century and the treatment of criminals. In the absence of any police force how were crimes solved? Who did the detective work? And did the criminals get a fair trial - an important question if you were going to hang from the neck for a relatively minor misdemeanour. Was there a criminal underclass and did people really live in terror of going on the roads at night? Looking at the underbelly of society and the nastier aspects of life that many historians ignore, James Sharpe creates a vivid picture of life on the edges in 18th century Britain.