When Harrison Ainsworth wrote Rookwood, that fantastic romance of highway robbery and the impossible exploits of the Rookwood family, he did a singular injustice to a most distinguished seventeenth-century highwayman, John Nevison by name, and transferred the glory of his wonderful ride to York to Dick Turpin, who never owned a "Black Bess," and who never did anything of the kind. Turpin, by virtue of Ainsworth's glowing pages, has become a popular hero and stands full in the limelight, while the real gallant figure is only dimly seen in the cold shade of neglect.

John or "William" Nevison, by some accounts, was born at Pontefract, in 1639, of "honest and reasonably-estated parents." Sometimes we find him styled Nevison, at other times he is "alias Clerk" in the proclamations issued, offering rewards for his arrest. Occasionally, in the chap-books, we find John Nevison and William Nevison treated as two separate and distinct persons, no doubt because the recorded adventures of this truly eminent man were so widely distributed over the country, that it was difficult to believe them the doings of one person. But there seems to be no reasonable doubt that one and the same man was the hero of all these doings, as also of the famous Ride to York. Of course it is now by far too late to snatch from Turpin the false glory bestowed upon him. A hundred romances, a century of popular plays, have for ever in the popular mind identified him with the Ride to York, and with all manner of achievements and graces that were never his. Lies are brazen and immortal; truth is modest; and the Great Turpin Myth is too fully established to be thoroughly scotched.

But let us to the career of Nevison, as told in the pages of what few authorities exist. He seems to have been a precocious boy: precocious in things evil. Indeed we must needs regard him as a wunderkind in that sort, for between the ages of thirteen and fourteen, and when still at school, he is reported to have been the "ringleader in rudeness and debauchery." He stole a silver spoon from his father, who delegated the thrashing so richly deserved to the schoolmaster, who seems to have "laid on" in the thorough manner suggested to Macduff. A vivid picture presents itself to us, of William (or John) occupying a sleepless night, rubbing the parts and meditating revenge. As a result of his deliberations, he arose before peep of day and, cautiously taking his father's keys, stole to the domestic cashbox and helped himself to the ten pounds he found there. Then, taking a saddle and bridle from his father's stable, he hastened to the paddock where the schoolmaster had a horse out to graze. Saddling it, he made off for London, which he reached in four days. He dared not sell the horse, for by that means he might have been traced, so he killed the unfortunate animal when within one or two miles of London.

Buying a new suit of clothes and changing his name, he soon found employment with a brewer. In that situation he remained nearly three years, and then left suddenly for the Continent, incidentally with £200 belonging to the brewer. Holland was the country he honoured with his presence, and there he found a fellow-mind in the person of a young Dutch woman who, robbing her father of all the money and jewels she could lay hands upon, eloped with him. They were soon arrested, but Nevison broke prison, and with some difficulty, made his way into Flanders, and enlisted in the troops stationed there under command of the Duke of York. It is not to be supposed that such a restless temperament as his would allow him long to remain subject to restrictions and the word of command, and accordingly he deserted, made across to England, and, purchasing a horse and arms, and "resolving for the Road," blossomed out as a full-blown highwayman. As his original biographer prettily puts it, he embarked upon "a pleasant life at the hazard of his neck, rather than toil out a long remainder of unhappy days in want and poverty, which he was always averse to." Who, for that matter, is not? Let us sigh for the days that were, the days that are no more, when such adventures as the highwaymen sought were to be found on every highway. A short life, so long as it was a merry, was sufficient for these fine fellows, who desired nothing so little as a gnarled and crabbed age, and nothing so much as a life filled with excitement, wine, and the smiles of the fair. Those smiles were apt to be purchased, and generally purchased dear, but in that respect the highwaymen were never disposed to be critical.

Nevison's success, immediate and complete, proclaimed his fitness for the career himself had with due thought and deliberation chosen. At first he kept his own counsel and haunted the roads alone. Sometimes he went by the name of Johnson.

At this early stage he met one evening on the high road two farmers, who told him it was dangerous to go forward, themselves having only a few minutes before been robbed of forty pounds by three highwaymen, scarce more than half a mile off.

"Turn back with me," he said, "and show me the way they went, and, my life to a farthing if I do not make them return your money."

They accordingly rode back with him until they had come within sight of the three robbers, when Nevison, ordering the two farmers to stand behind, rode up and spoke to the foremost of the three.

"Sir," said he, "by your garb and the colour of your horse, you should be one of those I look after, and, if so, my business is to tell you that you borrowed of two friends of mine forty pounds, which they desired me to demand of you, and which, before we part, you must restore."

Two of the men then made haste to ride off.

"How?" quoth the remaining highwayman. "Forty pounds; d—n me, is the fellow mad?"

"So mad," replied Nevison, "that your life shall answer me, if you do not give me better satisfaction."

With that Nevison drew his pistol and suddenly clapped it to the man's chest; at the same time seizing his horse's reins, in such a manner that he could not draw either sword or pistols.

"My life is at your mercy," he confessed.

"No," said Nevison, "'tis not that I seek, but the money you have robbed those two men of. You must refund it."

With the best grace he could, the highwayman parted with what he had, saying his companions had the rest.

Nevison then, making him dismount, and taking his pistols, desired the countrymen to secure him, while he pursued the others. In the gathering twilight, as he galloped up, they, thinking it was their friend, drew rein.

"Jack," said one to him, "why did you stop to argue with that fellow?"

"No, gentlemen," said Nevison, "you are mistaken in your man; though, by token of his horse that I ride and his arms I carry, he hath sent me to you, to ransom his life. The ransom, sirs, is nothing less than your shares of the prize of the day, which if you presently surrender, you may go about your business. If not, I must have a little dispute with you, at sword and pistol."

One of them then let fly at him, but his aim missing, Nevison's bullet in reply took him in the right shoulder. He then called for quarter and came to a parley, which ended in the two surrendering not only their share of the two travellers' money, but a total amount of a hundred and fifty guineas. Nevison thereupon returned to the farmers and, handing them their money, went his way with the balance of one hundred and ten guineas.

This, it will at once be conceded, was by no means professional conduct; and was indeed, we may say, a serious breach of the highway law, by which thieves should at any rate stand by one another, shoulder to shoulder against the world.

Nevison, however, like a true philosopher and a false comrade, improved any occasion to his own advantage, without scruple. You figure him thus, rather of a saturnine humour, with an ugly grin on his face, instead of a frank smile; but probably you would be quite wrong in so doing. At any rate, the ladies appear to have loved him, for we learn that, "in all his pranks, he was very favourable to the female sex, who generally gave him the character of a civil, obliging robber." He was also charitable to the poor, and, being a true Royalist, he never attempted anything against those of that party.

After many adventures, our William, or John, as the case may be, one day secured no less a sum than £450 by a fortunate meeting on the road with a rich grazier who had just sold, and been paid for, some cattle. He resolved to let the road lie fallow, as it were, for a while, and to seek, in a temporary retirement in his native place, that repose which comes doubly welcome after a period of strenuous professional endeavour.

He was joyfully received by his father, who still was living in the old town of Pontefract, although some seven or eight years had passed since his son had levanted and disappeared utterly from the parental ken. He had long given up all hopes of seeing his boy again; and now he was returned, a young man of twenty-one years of age, and with a respectable sum of money; the savings of a frugal and industrious life in London, according to his own account.

Here is an idyllic picture: the highwayman returned home, soothing the declining days of his father, and living as quietly and soberly as though he had never emptied a pocket on the King's highway!

After the death of his father, he left the quiet existence at Pontefract, and opened the second part of his career upon the road. He now so far departed from his former practice as to become the moving spirit in a numerous band whose headquarters were long situated at Newark. They particularly affected Yorkshire, and inspired the drovers and graziers who used the Great North Road with dread.

At times, however, he would range southward again, by himself, and one of these expeditions resulted in the marvellous feat that made him famous at the time, and should have kept him so for all time. His well-earned laurels, unhappily, have been snatched by a heedless hand from his brow, and placed on the unworthy head of Turpin. Such are the strange vagaries of fame!

Nevison's all-eclipsing exploit originated in a four-o'clock-in-the-morning robbery upon Gad's Hill, near Rochester.

For some reason, Nevison appears to have been particularly afraid of being recognised by the traveller whom he stopped and relieved of his purse on that May morning, and he immediately, for the establishment of an alibi, conceived the idea of riding such a distance that day as to make it appear humanly impossible he could have been near Rochester at that hour. He proposed to ride to no less distant a place than the city of York, two hundred and thirty miles away from that "high old robbing hill." To the modern commentator, writing with even pulse, it would seem that, unless that traveller's purse had been very well lined, the proceeds of the robbery would not be nearly worth this tremendous effort, after the taking of it.

It would seem that in being so rash as to rob a traveller in the dawning of that May day, he had indeed been so unfortunate as to happen upon some one who knew him; and there was nothing else but to put as many miles as he could between the dawn and the setting of the sun. So behold him, mounted upon his "blood bay" mare, galloping away for Gravesend. He crossed the Thames to Tilbury, and so went, by way of Horndon and Billericay, to Chelmsford, where he halted an hour and gave his gallant steed some balls. Thence through Braintree, Bocking, Wethersfield, Fenny Stanton, Godmanchester, and Huntingdon, where he halted another half-hour; and so, straight down the Great North Road (but avoiding the towns) to York. Of course he must needs have had several remounts on the way. It is unthinkable that one horse could have performed such a journey. But Nevison was no lone unfriended knight of the road, and, in his extensive operations, had excellent friends in different parts of the country, who could help him on occasion to a good horse.

Arrived at York, he halted only to put up his horse, and to remove the travel-stains and signs of haste from his person, and then made his way to the nearest bowling-green, where it chanced that so important a personage as the Lord Mayor was playing bowls with some friends.

Nevison took an early opportunity of asking the time, and was told it was just a quarter to eight. Having done this, and thus fixed the time and the incident in the Lord Mayor's mind, he was satisfied, and after-events proved the wisdom of his flight; for he was shortly afterwards arrested on another charge of highway robbery, and, among those who were present, in an effort to identify him with other charges, was none other than the early morning traveller upon Gad's Hill.

The alibi on that count was triumphantly established. Nevison called his York acquaintances, and the Lord Mayor was appealed to. That civic dignitary readily deposed to the fact that this falsely-accused gentleman was on the York bowling-green on the evening of that day: and in the end, Nevison was acquitted on all charges.

But the highwaymen of that age had a good deal of the braggart in their composition. They could not do a clever thing without taking the world into their confidence; and so, heedless of the danger to his career, Nevison told the story of the ride to delighted ears. Instead of being arrested on what was practically a confession, he became the hero of the hour. The tale even reached the ears of Charles the Second, who had him presented, and, loving a clever rogue as he did (and possibly with some fellow-feeling, in the recollection of how himself had been a harassed fugitive), pardoned him, and christened him "Swift Nicks."

Elsewhere, we read that the robbery took place at Barnet, and that it was thence Nevison rode to York. The traveller, it seems in this version, had set out from the "Blossoms" inn, Lawrence Lane, in the city of London, and lost five hundred and sixty guineas on this monumental occasion.

According to one account, this was "in or about" May 1676; but it is difficult to fix the dates of many of the seventeenth-century highwaymen's doings within a few years, and this would certainly appear to be an error, for it can be proved that he bore the nickname "Swift Nicks" years before. For example, we find in December 1668 a proclamation offering £20 reward for the arrest of several specified highwaymen, including Swift Nicks; and another in the London Gazette of November 18th, 1669, in which "Swift Nix" is again mentioned. This proclamation is in itself an interesting and valuable sidelight upon the social conditions of that age:

Whitehall, Nov. 17th.

His Majesty having been informed that divers lewd and disorderly persons have committed great and heinous Robberies, Murders, and Burglaries, imboldened thereto either out of hope to escape the hand of Justice, or by the carelessness and negligence in keeping due Watches and Wards, and the pursuit of them by Hue and cry, or the concealment of them and their Horses by Inn-keepers, Ostlers, and others, and that some which have been indicted for these offences, and others not indicted but guilty of the same, continue their wicked practices in spoiling his good subjects, of which number are said to be Lewis, alias Lodowick, alias Claude de Val, alias Brown, Swift Nix, alias Clerk, Humble Ashenhurst, Martin Bringhurst, John Spencer, William Stavely, William Stanesby, Thomas Stanley, Nicholas Greenbury, William Talbot, Richard Wild, William Connel, Nicholas James, and Herman Atkins, are notoriously known to be such, and of one party and knot, etc. His Majesty minding to preserve all His loving Subjects in their Lives and Estates from all Rapine and Violence, was thus pleased to order His Proclamation to be issued out, Commanding all His Subjects and Officers of Justice to use their endeavours for the apprehension of the said persons, and all others who have been, or shall be guilty of the offences aforesaid, that they may be proceeded against according to Law and Justice, declaring His Will and Pleasure,

That all Justices take Order, that due Watches and Wards be kept by Horse and Foot for the apprehension of such offenders; Commanding all Vintners, keepers of Common Ordinaries, Gaming Houses, Inn-keepers, Horse-keepers, and other persons where such persons shall be or resort, to apprehend or cause them to be apprehended, etc., or otherwise themselves to be proceeded against as far as by due course of Law they may, declaring that whosoever shall before the 20th of June next, apprehend or cause to be apprehended any of the said persons above-named, and brought into custody, and prosecute them to a Conviction, shall have a reward of Twenty pounds for every such offender, and for every other notorious Robber, Burglar, or Murderer, the sum of Ten pounds within 15 days after their Conviction, to be paid by the respective Sheriff of the County where such conviction shall be had, upon the Certificate of the Judge, or under the hands of two or more Justices of the Peace before whom they were convicted.

And so forth. This official proclamation clashes discordantly with the kindly, forgiving character of the King's interview with Nevison. Of course, there would naturally be all the difference between a proclamation and a private act of clemency; and not even in those days, when a King might do strange things, was it possible, or thinkable, to give a highwayman liberty to rob as he pleased. We may, perhaps, not without justification, surmise that this highwayman's continued and notorious activity wore out the easy-going monarch's patience.

Nevison was arrested on one occasion and lodged in Wakefield prison, but he broke out, and was again holding up the lieges. At another time he was released on giving a promise that he would volunteer to serve in our newly acquired colony, Tangier; but he promptly deserted. Once he was thrown into Leicester gaol, heavily ironed, and strictly guarded; so well-advised were the authorities of his slippery character. Among those who visited him in his cell was a friend in the disguise of a doctor. This person, affecting to be struck with horror at the sight of him, declared he was infected with the plague; and added that, so far as the prisoner himself was concerned, he might die and be d——d for a rogue, and welcome; but a more serious thing was that, unless he were removed to a larger room, not only would he die, but he would also spread the infection over the entire prison.

Nevison was very speedily removed to another room, and the gaoler, implored by his wife, went no further than the door. The physician, meanwhile, came twice or thrice a day to see the patient, and at last declared his case to be hopeless. The highwayman's body was then artfully painted over with blue spots, and he was given a powerful sleeping draught. The physician was shocked, the next time he called, to find him dead. An inquest was hurriedly held: the jury keeping a considerable distance away, with vinegar-saturated handkerchiefs to noses. "Dead of the plague," they declared; and hurried home to make their wills.

The friends of the dead highwayman proved to the local world the strength and fearlessness of their friendship by claiming the body, and were allowed to coffin it and remove it. The coffin was duly interred, but not Nevison, for he stepped out at the first opportunity, and that very night, in the character of his own ghost, was robbing wayfarers, doubly terrified at this "supernatural" reappearance.

It was not long before the whole story leaked out. Then ensued perhaps the busiest period of his career. The drovers and farmers of Yorkshire were put under regular contribution by him and his gang: the carriers paid a recognised toll, in the form of a quarterly allowance, which at one and the same time cleared the road for them, and offered protection against any other highway marauders. Indeed, Nevison was in this respect almost a counterpart of those old German barons of the Rhine who levied dues on travellers, or in default hanged or imprisoned them. The parallel goes no greater distance than that, for those picturesque nobles were anything but the idols of the people; while Nevison was sufficiently popular to have become the hero of a rural ballad, still occasionally to be heard in the neighbourhood of his haunts at Knaresborough, Ferrybridge, York, or Newark. Here are two verses of it, not perhaps distinguished by wealth of fancy or resourcefulness of rhyme:

A curious pamphlet survives, entitled Bloody News from Yorkshire, dated 1674, and telling how Nevison and twenty of his men attacked fifteen butchers, who were riding to Northallerton Fair, and engaged in a furious battle with them.

As an interlude to these more serious affairs, there is the story of how Nevison alone, going on a southerly expedition, met a company of canting beggars, mumpers, and idle vagrants, and proposed to join their "merry" life. Their leader welcomed his proposal, and indicated their course of life. "Do we not come into the world arrant beggars, without a rag upon us? And do we not all go out of the world like beggars, saving only an old sheet over us? Very well, then: shall we be ashamed to walk up and down the world like beggars, with old blankets pinned about us? No, no: that would be a shame to us indeed. Have we not the whole kingdom to walk in, at our pleasure? Are we afraid of the approach of quarter-day? Do we walk in fear of sheriffs, sergeants, and catchpoles? Who ever knew an arrant beggar arrested for debt? Is not our meat dressed in every man's kitchen? Does not every man's cellar afford us beer? And the best men's purses keep a penny for us to spend."

As a preliminary to electing him of their band, they asked him if he had any loure in his bung. Seeing his ignorance of their cant phrases, they said the question was, "Had he any money in his purse?"

"Eighteenpence," said he, "and you're welcome to it."

This modest sum was, by unanimous vote, allocated for the purpose of a general booze, in celebration of his admission. The ceremony, the "gage of booze," as the historian of these things terms it, consisted in pouring a quart of beer over the head of the initiate, and the captain saying, "I do, by virtue of this sovereign liquor, install thee in the Roage, and make thee a free denizen of our ragged regiment, so that henceforth it shall be lawful for thee to cant, and to carry a doxy, or mort, along with thee, only observing these rules: first, that thou art not to wander up and down all countries, but to keep to that quarter which is allotted to thee; and, secondly, thou art to give way to any of us that have borne all the offices of the wallet before; and, upon holding up a finger, to avoid any town or country village where thou seest we are foraging for victuals for our army that march along with us. Observing these two rules, we take thee into our protection, and adopt thee a brother of our numerous society."

Having ended his oration, the captain bade Nevison rise, when he was congratulated by all the company hanging about him, like so many dogs about a bear, and making a hideous noise. The chief, silencing them, continued: "Now that thou art entered into our fraternity, thou must not scruple to act any villainies, whether it be to cut a purse, steal a cloak-bag or portmanteau, convey all manner of things, whether a chicken, sucking-pig, duck, goose, hen, or steal a shirt from the hedge; for he that will be a quier cove (a professed rogue) must observe these rules. And because thou art but a novice in begging, and understandest not the mysteries of the canting language, thou shalt have a doxy to be thy companion, by whom thou mayest receive instructions."

Thereupon, he singled out a girl of about fourteen years of age, which tickled his fancy very much; but he must presently be married to her, after the fashion of their patrico, the priest of the beggars. The ceremony consisted of taking a hen, and having cut off the head, laying the dead body on the ground; placing him on one side and his doxy on the other. This being done, the "priest," standing by, with a loud voice bade them live together till death did them part. Then, shaking hands and kissing each other, the ceremony of the wedding was over, and the whole group appeared intoxicated with joy. They could hardly, at any rate, be intoxicated with booze, if eighteenpence had been all they had to spend on liquor, and a quart of that wasted.

Night approaching, they all resorted to a neighbouring barn, where they slept: Nevison slipping out secretly before morning, and continuing his journey.

Butchers and Nevison were antipathetic, and he and his gang had levied much tribute in Yorkshire upon their kind. In 1684, two butchers, brothers, Fletcher by name, tried to capture him near Howley Hall, Morley.

He shot one dead, and escaped. The spot is still marked by a stone near Howley Farm. Not long after this he was arrested at the "Three Houses" inn, at Sandal, near Wakefield.

He was at the time, and for long after, a popular hero. The butchers, the graziers, the farmers, the carriers might owe him a grudge, but the peasantry dwelt upon his real or his fancied generosity to the poor, and ballads about him always commanded a ready sale. According to a very popular example, entitled Nevison's Garland, he pleaded "Not Guilty":

To commit murder in endeavouring to escape arrest was ever regarded by the highwaymen as a venial sin: a view not shared by the law, and he was found guilty, sentenced to death, and hanged within a week from his trial. He suffered at Knavesmire, York, May 4th, 1685, in the forty-fifth year of his age.

"He was something stupid at the gallows," says the old chronicler ("probably drunk," adds a later commentator), "yet he confess'd everything."

The older Nevison ballads, which had some little literary merit, as well as quaintness, to recommend them, have given place to vilely re-written verses that have not the merit of truth or of rhyme. This is how a typical example goes: