A Book of Scoundrels | Page 4

that for which nature had framed him. Thus she made
easy the path for that other hero, of whom you are told that his band
was made up `of several sorts of wicked artists, of whom he made
several uses, according as he perceived which way every man's
particular talent lay.' This statesman--Thomas Dun was his name--drew
up for the use of his comrades a stringent and stately code, and he was
wont to deliver an address to all novices concerning the art and mystery
of robbing upon the highway. Under auspices so brilliant, thievery
could not but flourish, and when the Stuarts sat upon the throne it was
already lifted above the level of questioning experiment.
Every art is shaped by its material, and with the variations of its

material it must perforce vary. If the skill of the cutpurse compelled the
invention of the pocket, it is certain that the rare difficulties of the
pocket created the miraculous skill of those crafty fingers which were
destined to empty it. And as increased obstacles are perfection's best
incentive, a finer cunning grew out of the fresh precaution. History
does not tell us who it was that discovered this new continent of
roguery. Those there are who give the credit to the valiant Moll
Cutpurse; but though the Roaring Girl had wit to conceive a thousand
strange enterprises, she had not the hand to carry them out, and the first
pickpocket must needs have been a man of action. Moreover, her
nickname suggests the more ancient practice, and it is wiser to yield the
credit to Simon Fletcher, whose praises are chanted by the early
historians.
Now, Simon, says his biographer, was `looked upon to be the greatest
artist of his age by all his contemporaries.' The son of a baker in
Rosemary Lane, he early deserted his father's oven for a life of
adventure; and he claims to have been the first collector who, stealing
the money, yet left the case. The new method was incomparably more
subtle than the old: it afforded an opportunity of a hitherto unimagined
delicacy; the wielders of the scissors were aghast at a skill which put
their own clumsiness to shame, and which to a previous generation
would have seemed the wildest fantasy. Yet so strong is habit, that even
when the picking of pockets was a recognised industry, the superfluous
scissors still survived, and many a rogue has hanged upon the Tree
because he attempted with a vulgar implement such feats as his unaided
forks had far more easily accomplished.
But, despite the innovation of Simon Fletcher, the highway was the
glory of Elizabeth, the still greater glory of the Stuarts. `The
Lacedmonians were the only people,' said Horace Walpole,
`except the English who seem to have put robbery on a right foot.' And
the English of the seventeenth century need fear the rivalry of no
Lacedmonian. They were, indeed, the most valiant and graceful
robbers that the world has ever known. The Civil War encouraged their
profession, and, since many of them had fought for their king, a proper
hatred of Cromwell sharpened their wits. They were scholars as well as
gentlemen; they tempered their sport with a merry wit; their avarice
alone surpassed their courtesy; and they robbed with so perfect a regard

for the proprieties that it was only the pedant and the parliamentarian
who resented their interference.
Nor did their princely manner fail of its effect upon their victims. The
middle of the seventeenth century was the golden age, not only of the
robber, but of the robbed. The game was played upon either side with a
scrupulous respect for a potent, if unwritten, law. Neither might nor
right was permitted to control the issue. A gaily attired, superbly
mounted highwayman would hold up a coach packed with armed men,
and take a purse from each, though a vigorous remonstrance might
have carried him to Tyburn. But the traveller knew his place: he did
what was expected of him in the best of tempers. Who was he that he
should yield in courtesy to the man in the vizard? As it was monstrous
for the one to discharge his pistol, so the other could not resist without
committing an outrage upon tradition. One wonders what had been the
result if some mannerless reformer had declined his assailant's
invitation and drawn his sword. Maybe the sensitive art might have
died under this sharp rebuff. But none save regicides were known to
resist, and their resistance was never more forcible than a volley of
texts. Thus the High- toby-crack swaggered it with insolent gaiety,
knowing no worse misery than the fear of the Tree, so long as he
followed the rules of his craft. But let a touch of brutality disgrace his